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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967817">Blood Runs Blue and Red</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherLynn/pseuds/SlytherLynn'>SlytherLynn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blood Runs Through [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Friday - Fandom, tgwdlm - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with some fluffy moments, Bits of Firebringer, Black and White shit, F/M, Paulkins - Freeform, Portals, Semi-infected! Paul, infected!paul, ley lines, mentioned time travel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:55:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>50,295</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23967817</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlytherLynn/pseuds/SlytherLynn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of Inevitable, a semi-infected Paul tries to help Emma escape the hive. They make some friends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ethan Green/ Lex Foster, Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins, Xander Lee/John McNamara</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Blood Runs Through [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1790512</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>847</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>343</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Blue or Red?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“What do you want…”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“...defied us thrice…”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Time to die,”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Let it out”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Em-maaaa”</em>
</p><p>He woke up. He shouldn’t have. He should have been dead. He knew that. He knew he shouldn’t be aware of what was happening, but here he was, dragging a woman <em>~Emma!~</em> out of a hospital room to the steady beat of drums.</p><p>Bum. Bum. Bum.</p><p>He stopped. Why did he stop?</p><p>
  <em>~Why did you stop? Why did you stop? Why did you stop?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Why did you stop? Why did you stop? Why did you stop?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Why did you stop? Why~</em>
</p><p>The voices in his head sang over and over and over in rounds. He shook his head, hoping to dispel them.<br/>But why? Why go back to the silence? The monotony? The emptiness?</p><p>The woman looked up at him, “Paul?”<br/>Her voice was so small, so hesitant, that he barely heard her over the singing in his head.<br/>“Paul?”</p><p>Paul. He knew Paul. He was a boring man. A man who wanted nothing. A man who worked at the same office for ten years. A man who went to the same coff-<br/>It was as if a bolt of lightning went through him. He jerked back, letting go of the woman- Emma- as pain lanced through him.<br/>“Paul!” The woman was staring at him intently. So was everyone else. He had let go of her. His family seemed frozen, as if waiting for their cue.<br/>“A-are you…?” Her voice trailed off, searching for the right word.</p><p>She was bleeding. Crimson dripped from her brow. Something was wrong. Why was her blood red? It should be cerulean. Blood was blue. Blue…<br/>Blue. Blue running down the side of a coffee pot. Blue gushing from a man’s head. Blue entrails. Blue. Blue. Blue-</p><p>
  <em>“Some kind of blue...shit?”</em>
</p><p>It was her voice. Emma’s. But she hadn’t spoken.<br/>Slowly he dragged his eyes to meet hers. The trickle of red had reached them. He reached down to wipe it away.<br/>Blood shouldn’t be blue. It was wrong.<br/>He didn't understand.<br/>“Em-~<em>maaa~</em>?” His voice sounded hoarse, grating.<br/>“Oh my god, Paul! You fucking scared me! For a minute back there I thought- no, I knew you were acting. Oh god, I knew it! Fuck you, Hive! When you left...”</p><p>Scared her? Why would he do that? And...acting? He hated act- no...that wasn’t true, was it?<br/>“Paul? How’d you do it?” She stared at him.<br/>“D-do what?” He stared back at her.<br/>She cocked her head to one side,”...freeze them?” She pointed to his family, still waiting for their cues. “You… you did do something, right?”</p><p>Did he? He couldn’t remember.</p><p>“You know what? Fuck it. Fuck them. Fuck fucking Clivesdale. I’ve a deed to a plot of land in Colorado, and you, my dude, are coming with. PEIP can deal with this mess; we are out.”</p><p>She grabbed his hand, and started limping down the hallway. More red blood leaked from the bandage on her thigh. It was confusing. He knew that blood should be red, but when he thought about it, he was certain it should be…</p><p>“Paul? Jeez, you’re a fucking mess. You got blue shit all over you. We can’t go outside with you looking like one of them.” She pushed him into the nearest bathroom -when did they get this far down the hallway?- and sat him in front of the mirror.<br/>Was that...him? Paul? He was covered in blood, the blue shit Emma had called it. Blue blood. Blue. Blue. Shit.<br/>He vomited into the sink. Again, it was blue. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and looked up at Emma, only to find her holding a gun at him. Where did that come from? From the corner of his eye, he saw that the small backpack she had been wearing lay open in another sink.</p><p>“ What the fuck? Is this some kind of trick? What the fuck?” She started backing away from him looking for an exit, but he was standing between her and the only door. “ You weren’t acting before, were you? Was this whole thing just a fucking ruse to get me alone with you? Answer me!”</p><p>He didn’t know what to say. Broken lyrics echoed through his head, and the only thing he could force out of his mouth was a strangled “Em-<em>maaa</em>”</p><p>She undid the safety. “ No fucking singing!”</p><p>He didn’t know if he could talk. He didn’t know what they had done to him, how he was alive. He was almost positive he remembered Paul <em>~himself~</em> pulling the pin on the grenade, and exploding the Mother but… he shouldn’t be alive.</p><p>“Hello? You gonna fuckin’ answer me, buddy?”</p><p>“ I… Em~<em>ma~</em>“ He cut himself off. No singing. “Em… Em. I don’t know. I don’t<em> ~understaaand~ </em>why I’m here, or-or-or what color blood is, or anything!”<br/>He backed away from her, palms up, trying to show that he wasn’t trying to hurt her.</p><p>“What do you mean? What color blood is?”</p><p>He stammered, “ We-well, yours...yours is re<em>~ed. And mine is blue. And i don’t know what to do-oo~</em>.” He shut up before she decided to shoot him.</p><p>“ Well no shit, you’re one of them!” She raised the gun, then lowered it, as if confused.</p><p>He rushed in, “No! No, no no no. I’m awake! I’m Paul, right? I worked at CCRP, and-and went to Beanies every day, and I tried. Em, I tried to stop it! I blew up the meteor, right? I think I did, at least, but I’m awake! I’m me...I think?”</p><p>There. No singing. Not even a little bit. Paul felt proud of himself.</p><p>“You...you’re infected, though! I just watched you puke blue shit into that sink! And, for your information, blood is fucking red! Not blue!” She had pressed herself against the wall, as far away from Paul as she could get. He couldn’t really blame her, since there was still music in his head, getting louder with every passing second.</p><p>
  <em>~Where did you go, Paul?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>How could you leave our inner circle</em>
  <br/>
  <em>We’re coming to find you</em>
  <br/>
  <em>And your little ingenue!</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Where are you hiding?~</em>
</p><p>Guess his family didn’t stay frozen for very long.</p><p>“Em. I- I need you to listen to me. They’re coming for us! They unfroze, and are scouring the hospital as we speak. We have to get <em>~out of here now~</em>!” He started tapping the rhythm of the song on the porcelain sink.</p><p>“Uh- there is no way I am going anywhere with you; you are literally one of them. And how do I know they aren’t waiting for me to leave the bathroom to ambush me the second I leave?”</p><p>They didn’t have time for this. The music was getting to be nearly too loud for him to focus. His left foot started to move of its own accord. It felt like when he was back at the Starlight, and was losing control over his body.</p><p>Glancing up, he made a split second decision.</p><p>The ceiling was made from those tiles that could be removed to reveal a crawl space. He pushed one up and slid it to the side, before grabbing the backpack from the sink and tossing it up.</p><p>“I’m sorry, but what the fuck are you doing?” Emma had slowly crept forward, and was now watching him with utter confusion written on her face.</p><p>“I told you already. <em>~They are looking for those who have defied them~</em>. Shit. Shit! Em<em>~maa~</em>, please trust me! I have no intention of hurting you; I only want to help. If we can hide in the crawl space, maybe they will think we left the hospital, and will go out to look for us. Please, let me help. <em>~I’m still the man you trust~</em>.”</p><p>Emma looked shakily from him, to the ceiling, and back to him. “Okay.”</p><p>He picked her up, and pretended that he didn’t notice her flinch when he touched her. After following her up, he slid the tile back into place, just as the song hit a deafening crescendo.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Too Much Blue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>      Emma watched as the thing in Paul’s body pulled himself up into the ceiling. It looked like Paul, but wasn’t him. He had blue shit all over his face, and she hadn’t noticed until they’d gotten into the bright light of the lavatory, but he had thin scars on his face and neck. And his eyes...fuck. His eyes were glowing. Like, actually glowing. They were a bright cobalt that illuminated the tiny space. Paul had kind, soft blue eyes, not this painful brightness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, the light vanished. She watched in the now dim light as Not Paul curled into himself and wrapped his arms around his head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Paul? Y’okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She dug around in her backpack for the new phone Schaffer had given to her, and shone it into his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes were squeezed shut, but he was murmuring words along to a song she couldn’t hear. Suddenly he stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up shut up shut up ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>shut the fuck up</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She heard the door below them bang open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Paul, you said you wanted to help, right?” He nodded tightly. “You have to be quiet. If they hear us, they will kill me, I dunno what they’ll do to you, since you’re already...just please be quiet.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stiffened further, but was thankfully silent. Footsteps echoed beneath them, and she heard what must have been the sound of the stall doors breaking. Then, nothing. The only sounds left were her ragged breathing and pounding heart. Then-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bang! Bang! Bang!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those...those were gunshots. Did the infected have guns? They hadn’t used weapons before, but...what else could it be?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With each shot, Paul relaxed further, until he finally opened his eyes again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue light filled the crawl space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re gone,” he whispered. “I can’t hear them anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could it be a trick?” She breathed,” could they be waiting outside for us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure it’s safe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He removed the tile, and dropped down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>ohh oh oh. Okay~</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay ~ </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay okay!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>Paul?” She whispered. The bathroom light was blinding after the darkness of the crawl space. She couldn’t see shit. “Paul, I’m coming down.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>She maneuvered herself until she felt like it would be safe to drop, but then hands were at her waist, guiding her down. Cold hands. Too cold hands. Paul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was he not shivering? He was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>freezing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She started to move away, but he held her tighter against him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she looked at the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Pools of the blue shit covered the tiles, their color made more offensive by the fluorescent lights. But that wasn’t the worst of it. No, the worst of it was the bodies. The bodies of people she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. There was Nora, and Zoey, and Bill. She had never liked Nora and Zoey, but she hadn’t wanted them dead. Hadn’t wanted to see the bullet holes through their skulls. And Bill. She hadn’t known him long, but he had seemed like a decent guy, if a bit spineless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god.” She threw up in the same sink Paul had. “Ok. Ok, okay. Yeah. This is...this is a good thing, right Paul? It means that PEIP, or at least someone who actually knows how to use one of these things,” she gestured at her gun, “is in the hospital, killing the Infected! Paul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was staring wide eyed at Bill. Oh shit… Paul was one of them. He looked like them, at least. He was probably worried whoever had shot the others would get him, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “Hey-“ she started, but he cut her off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was my best friend. Bill. I- I remember him. And Alice. He was like a brother to me, and oh gods, Em</span>
  <em>
    <span>~maaa! It’s my fault he died</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Th-th~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he paused, before continuing in a perfect monotone, as if to keep a single note from slipping out, “the first time. I knew Alice was already gone, but I still took him there and it killed him and it’s my fucking fault.” He started furiously rubbing the skin on the back of his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. “It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t’ve known for sure.” She put a hand over his, partially to stop him from rubbing the skin off, and partially in comfort, but then quickly pulled it back. As much as he may look like him, act like him, and just then, even sound like him, this wasn’t really Paul. Fuck, she wished he was, but he wasn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hurt filled his too-blue eyes, and he opened his mouth, but she cut him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Gimme a minute to think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Should she bring him? She didn’t know if she could trust him; he had been actively trying to infect her earlier, but now he seemed to truly want to help. Fuck. She liked Paul. She really did. If he hadn’t gotten himself killed, she thought they could have been friends...maybe something more. But he was...dead? Undead? She didn’t know. What she did know was that she didn’t know what the hell to do with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t leave him here, not after he saved her ass at Beanies, and then again at Hidgen’s, and then again just now. She owed him- or what was left of him that much at least. She didn’t like owing people; it reminded her too much of Jane, and how she always took advantage of her forgiveness. How she’d- nope. That was a problem for when she wasn’t stuck in a hospital bathroom with an undead alien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She owed Paul. Plain and simple. If they left this room, the infected could be anywhere. Unless PEIP… If PEIP really was here, they would shoot him. Done. No questions asked. Or maybe...maybe they wouldn’t.  If she had learned one thing in Biology, it was that the government and scientists liked to study anomalies. Maybe, since he was talking and actively trying to </span>
  <em>
    <span>quell</span>
  </em>
  <span> his musical urges, she could convince them to try to cure him! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Soft humming filled the blue stained bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or maybe not. But at least she could still </span>
  <em>
    <span>try</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Too Much Red</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He was following Emma through the hospital hallways. Where was everybody? The  building was eerily quiet. He watched Emma limp ahead of him. She hadn’t said anything since she’d claimed that she needed to think. That was...fine. Understandable. He needed to think, too. His mind felt strangely...blank? No, that wasn’t right. It definitely wasn't blank, not with the melodies running over and over in the back of his head. Nowhere near as overpowering as before...but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers started tapping out notes on his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grabbed the hand to try to keep it still. His body wanted to dance, but he knew he shouldn’t. Knew, that if he became a threat, Emma would shoot him without hesitation. Good. ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>not good. You could save her… make her one of us….</span>
  </em>
  <span>~</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That...that could work. If he puked in her mouth, then she wouldn’t shoot him, and they would be safe and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>No!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He sang out. Too loud. Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Emma whirled around to face him, eyes wide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Paul? We have to be quiet!” She hissed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Footsteps pounded somewhere behind them. The hive!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have to go! ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>run</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t wait for her to respond. He grabbed her arm and hauled her with him. Despite what the voices said, he did not want Emma to get infected. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure why not, but he was pretty sure he distantly remembered the two of them actively trying to get away from his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Family. Gods, he liked feeling like he belonged…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No...no he belonged, but not with them...</span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He picked his pace back up. Elevator elevator elevator. Where was the damned elevator? They were several stories up, and he didn’t think Emma could run for much longer. She was panting. In the back of his mind, he thought that he should be, too, but he wasn’t. Sweat beaded on her brow, mixing with the blood from her gash. Red seeped through the bandages on her thigh, and started dripping down her leg. Shit. No, she couldn’t keep running for much longer at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Elevator!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They skidded to a stop in front of the brassy doors. Emma slammed her hand on the down button, but then he noticed. The elevator was on floor one. They were on the 17th. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! Fuck a fucking duck!” She sobbed when she saw what he was looking at, and slid to the ground, exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too slow. The elevator was too slow. It wouldn’t reach them on time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em….we have to go,” he said as gently as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. Not even a hint that she heard him. He crouched in front of her, and removed her hands from where they covered her eyes. Crying. She was crying. He wiped a tear away, once again ignoring how she flinched when he touched her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em~</span>
  <em>
    <span>maa</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he let himself sing that one note. One note to scare her into moving. “We have to move. If they get to you, they will make you sing and dance. Alright? So don’t you let them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked at him, then. Looked, and smiled so faintly that he questioned whether or not it was really there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” she whispered, “I will </span>
  <b>never</b>
  <span> be in a fucking musical.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a finality to that statement that shook him to his core. Those words...they felt so familiar, like something he should </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>but couldn’t quite place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good,” he whispered, then held out a hand to help her up. She hesitated only for a second, before grasping it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he hauled her up, he saw the crimson pool on the white linoleum floor. ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>that should be blue</span>
  </em>
  <span>~ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Emma was still alive. He could get her out of here. And then...and then… and then what, exactly? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know. But she would get out of this gods damned empty hospital. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With Emma leaning heavily on him, they made their way to the stairwell. Slowly, so slowly, they made it down the first flight of stairs. She gasped at every single step, as more and more blood gushed from the wound in her thigh. Two flights down. They could still make it. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>make it. She was so strong. He knew what they would do when they got out. He would drive her to the clinic the next town over. They would make it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door above them banged open. And Emma’s leg gave out. She slid down his side, losing grip on the gun. Shit, she was barely conscious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>infect her now. Help her join us</span>
  </em>
  <span>~ He ignored the voices. They were so distant, they were barely whispers of song in the back of his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly took off his suit jacket, and wrapped it tightly around her leg. He was just positioning her in his arms, when the gunshot rang out from above them. </span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Bang</em>
  </b>
  <span>! </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry that this chapter is so much shorter than the other two, I really felt that this was the best place to end it. Also, sorry, not sorry about the cliffhanger.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>
    <em>Bang</em>
  </b>
  <span>! </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The deafening sound startled Emma back to consciousness as it reverberated through the stairwell. Then Paul was gasping. Horrible, wet gasps that sent her heart plummeting to her stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma fell back to the ground, and as her leg collided with the floor, she was certain she would black out. Fuck, it burned.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-s-so~</span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Paul choked out. He coughed, and cerulean blood dribbled down his chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another gunshot, louder this time, if that was possible, and blue sprayed her face. And Paul… Paul collapsed onto the floor next to her</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” She shook him desperately, “Paul!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just kept gasping for air. Fuck. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kelly!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kelly? Who the fuck was Kelly? Ohh. That was her. Wait! Only PEIP knew that Emma Perkins was now officially Kelly Grey! That must mean-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kelly, I must ask that you get away from the infected. He might only be pretending to be injured. And if not, we still do not fully understand how the infection spreads. His blood could be dangerous. We are here for your safety.” Colonel Schaffer said levelly as she calmly aimed a gun at Paul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. No. She couldn’t leave him. Not after… for a moment, back at the elevator, he had looked exactly as she had remembered him. He had known what words she had told him before he had died. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> Paul. Different, but still Paul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop! He isn’t one of them! Schaffer! Please, please stop!” She begged, desperately clutching at his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Kelly,” The woman repeated, still utterly calm, “ he is the last one in the hospital, once he has been taken care of, we can get you to your beautiful farm </span>
</p><p>
  <span>in Colorado.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma looked at Paul, whose glowing eyes were dimming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Schaffer! He isn’t like the others! Please! We thought you were the hive, and, and, and he was trying to help get me away from them… he was trying…” she grabbed at his hand, “Paul, c’mon, please! You blew up a fucking meteor, you can live through this!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gazed blearily up at her, “...~</span>
  <em>
    <span>emmaaa I’m sorry. I’ve failed. Emmaaa, I’m sorry, I tried to stay…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Two men in black uniforms dragged him away from her, and that was when she lost it. Paul...Paul, who she had thought was dead, who had come back, only to be killed in front of her. He hadn’t been fully infected, and they had still killed him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She bellowed at the woman in front of her, “Fuck you! Fuck all of you! You could have saved him! He was talking, and damnit, he was fucking trying!” She sobbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schaffer crouched in front of her, and out her hands on Emma’s shoulders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kelly, we-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!” She pushed the soldier’s arms off her. “You fucking killed a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good </span>
  </em>
  <span>man!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma struggled to get away from her, to get to Paul,but Schaffer stopped her. “I need you to calm down, or else we’ll have to calm you ourselves. I don’t think you want that, Miss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you!” She spat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She barely had time to register the needle before the world went black. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Aaaaaand it’s another cliffhanger. Ish. I know it’s a short chapter, but it was ridiculously difficult to write, for obvious reasons. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A Blue Wall of Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When she woke up, she was on a bed in an unfamiliar room. White. Pure white. It smelled like rubbing alcohol. Fuck. Another hospital room. Emma hated hospitals. Especially after...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her head pounded and felt slightly wooly, as though it were stuffed with fuzz. Why the fuck was it so bright in here? She reached up to rub at her eyes, only to be stopped a few inches short. That was when she noticed the cuffs chaining her to her bed. What the hell? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad to see you’re awake, Kelly. We were worried about you. You lost a helluva lot of blood.” Ugh. Schaffer. Wasn’t there </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> else in PEIP? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Hi,” she coughed. God, her throat was dry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there was the Colonel, glass of water, complete with a straw, in hand. Emma drank. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks. Hey, uh, wanna tell my why the hell I’m cuffed to my fucking bed?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah Kelly, always a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schaffer sat at the foot of the bed, and rested a hand on Emma’s leg. “We were… worried… about your wellbeing. Ah. We have some good news for you, though. Your leg is gonna be right as rain in a few weeks, maybe a month. Well, almost. You’ll be fine.” She nodded definitively, and gave said limb a hearty whack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?” Emma stared incredulously at the other woman, “ You didn’t answer my question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no I didn’t. Wish you hadn’t caught that,” Schaffer stood up, and turned to face the wall,” It’s about Paul, Kelly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. She didn’t want to hear it. She had seen him. He was dead. The first person she had started to let in after Jane, and he was gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s alive.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was dead, and it was her fault. If she hadn’t sent him to the meteor-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her brain caught up. Alive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She breathed, barely daring to believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s a fighter, that man is,” the Colonel turned back around, and looked Emma dead in the eye, “I won’t honey coat it, Kelly. He’s in a bad way. You were right, back at the Clivesdale hospital; Paul was trying, but he hasn’t been since he woke up. Won’t stop singing. Sometimes… Well, you won’t be seeing him for a while, Kelly. But we thought you would want to know that he was still alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alive. Holy fuck he was alive. Emma could have laughed from the relief that washed over her. But…singing. Paul hated singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would it have been better for him to die as himself than to live as...something else? She didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ How hurt is he?” It was the only thing she could think to ask the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s recovering. His body will be completely fine soon. It’s his mind we’ll have to worry about.” And with that, she left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fucking cryptic bitch,” Emma muttered under her breath once the door closed. She didn’t want to fully answer her? Fine. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fine.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Schaffer and PEIP could keep their secrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the woman hadn’t said that she </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> see Paul, only that it wouldn’t be for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And she could wait. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> wait, for him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tada! See, I’m not a horrible person. I also wanted to thank you guys for all the comments and kudos. This is my first fanfic, and your responses have really helped to motivate me to write more of it. <br/>Love, SlytherLynn</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. It Sang</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>It hurt. Everything hurt. Breathing hurt. Blinking hurt. </span><em><span>Everything</span></em> <em><span>hurt</span></em><span>. Unless it sang. </span></p><p>
  <span>If it sang, the pain melted away, and was replaced with euphoria. If it sang, the burning faded to nothingness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> If it sang, its family would find it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so it sang. Over and over and over. It sang, even as it was strapped to a table and cut open. It sang, even as the bullets were removed. It sang, even as it was stitched back together. It sang, even as it was shoved into a white room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sang, even as a small part of it sobbed. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Damned to the Blue Blazes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Waiting, Emma soon discovered, was not her strong suit. She had been in PEIP headquarters for who knew how long- actually, no, she was fairly certain Schaffer knew exactly how long she’d been there. But was the Bitch, as she had recently coined the colonel, telling her? No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a negative, Kelly. Strictly classified information,” was the response any time Emma tried asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And again, if she asked about Paul:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a negative, Kelly. Strictly classified information,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again, if she begged Schaffer to call her Emma:</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a negative, <em>Kelly</em>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can you tell me what the weather is? That’s a negative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can I know your first name so I can stop saying Schaffer? That’s a negative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Can I eat something that isn’t soup? That’s a negative. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like every. single. question. she bothered to ask was answered in the same exact way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a negative, Kelly. Strictly classified information.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn it to the blue blazes! She wanted to wring that fucking woman’s throat. Of course, she still had one hand cuffed to her bed. And would, until the ‘doctor’ declared her leg fit to walk on. Emma didn’t think it was really doctor’s orders. She was fairly certain that Schaffer was just being a bitch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then again, three times a day, when she was uncuffed and allowed to walk to the bathroom in the far corner of her room, and her leg threatened to give out each time, Schaffer was there to help. Schaffer brought in her meals and kept her company, even if she didn’t say much (anything) of import. She was the only person Emma had seen since arriving here. Maybe she wasn’t all bad…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nah. Couldn’t be. Schaffer was a bitch. Even if she wasn’t, Emma was still pissed off, and needed someone to blame that wasn’t herself. And Schaffer was the only other person there, because Paul... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Paul…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Paul…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because, well, she hadn’t heard anything about him since the first time she woke up, other than that he was still alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t help but worry about what condition he was in. Maybe, he was perfectly fine, they had healed him up, and they could go home...wherever that was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was at death’s door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he was just still recovering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he wasn’t Paul anymore. Schaffer had said he had been singing nonstop. Maybe, he would waltz in here and start singing Inevitable to her again. And this time the real Paul wouldn’t come back to save her. And he and the other infected would tear her apart and make her one of them. And then she- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If she thought about that, she would go mad. Madder. She didn’t know how long it would be until she was allowed to see him, so she had to keep optimistic. Paul would be fine. He had been shot. Twice. That takes a long time to heal. He would be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, and Schaffer stepped inside the room, holding a tray with what looked like-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandwiches? Oh my god, do I finally get something that isn’t soup? Ha!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was pathetic. A fucking sandwich made her happy. Jeez. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doctor Ricciardi thought you might appreciate a non liquid, and that you should be able to keep it down, now.” Schaffer smiled, and handed Emma the plate. One sandwich half, a small bowl of what looked like split pea soup, and orange jello. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yum</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit into the sandwich and thought she might moan. She hadn’t eaten anything solid since that last day in Hatchetfield, however long ago that was. And good god, it was delicious. It was a plain turkey and provolone, but Emma was pretty sure it was the best fucking thing she had ever eaten. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After she finished eating, Schaffer took her plate, headed to the door, and said, as if telling her the time, “You have a visitor, Kelly.” She slipped out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s heart stopped. Paul. Oh god, Paul! He was okay! He was-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t Paul who stepped into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Emma. My name is Xander Lee,” the man said as he closed the door behind himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Allow me to repeat; who the fuck are you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled softly. He had a kind smile, Emma noted. It was warm. Refreshing, even, given Schaffer’s cool professionalism. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I am the reason your friend Paul is still alive.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. It Sang... Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It watched the mirror closely. It knew that it was no true mirror, but rather a window. And that on the other side, there were humans watching its every move. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span> Do you want to play with me, my lovely friends, my lovely friends?</span>
  </em>
  <span>~” it crooned in the mirror’s direction. There was no answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t expecting one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never responded to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They never helped him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>why do you not like my song? Is it not pretty? Is it not sweet? Is it not-</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It coughed up blue shit, which then proceeded to dribble down its jaw, and then hang, swaying along with every movement it made. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched in disgust. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It watched in delight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It spun closer to the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span> Come dance with me! We’ll waltz across the stars, and bid the moon hello. Come dance with me…</span>
  </em>
  <span>~”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It continued to sing as it stepped closer and closer to the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could see its face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The face that no longer belonged to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it never really did.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A New Friend</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So...I’ve given up trying to come up with blue and red chapter titles. I’m not that smart or creative. Anyways, enjoy the new chapter!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“ I am the reason your friend Paul is still alive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma gaped at him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander Lee strode further into the room and sat on the chair next to her bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean that, without me, your friend would be dead. I was the one who convinced Schaffer not to put a bullet through his head after we knocked you out, sorry about that by the way. You were out of control.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She leaned forward. Who the hell was this man? He looked vaguely familiar…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you stop her? His fucking blood was blue. He was infected… why would you help him?” She couldn’t understand it. PEIP was in charge of getting rid of extraterrestrials, not...helping them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He smiled again. This time it wasn’t warm. It was...was that self deprecation in his eyes? Emma couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ I’ll admit, I didn’t do it for him. Or you, for that matter. My intentions were...purely selfish,” He laced his fingers together in his lap and leaned forward. “You see, my husband was infected.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say. “I’m uh...I’m sorry. Is he...did he…” did he get exploded when Paul blew up the meteor. The question froze on her tongue. She couldn’t ask that. That was too callous, even for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I believe your Paul knew him. John always wore a silver watch of his grandfather’s. Never took it off. Paul was wearing it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander pulled said watch out of his pocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma gasped, “General McNamara gave that to him! Oh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Well shit. “Umm, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul said he was a good man. Without him, I would never have gotten out alive…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The rest of PEIP had arrived shortly after the helicopter had crashed, drawn by the smoke. Supposedly. That was what Schaffer had told her. Emma had been unconscious at the time. Blood loss and all that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ I know. But when I saw Paul at the hospital, and I saw that watch...and you were yelling, saying that he was trying to come back, and his eyes… they looked almost human, and, well. John is a good man. And he is extraordinarily valuable to our cause. And if there was any chance we could get him back- any chance that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>could get him back- I had to take it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If Paul was fighting the infection, then John could, too. Maybe, if your friend could throw it off, he could help my husband do the same. None of the others ever showed signs of humanity, so I stopped the Colonel. We were hopeful at first. And we healed Paul to the best of our abilities. And then he sang. And he hasn’t stopped. Not in two weeks. We’d hauled all of the infected into some empty buildings at the edge of base in case we could heal them, but if Paul can’t tell us anything, then we can’t help them. And we can’t keep three hundred infected indefinitely…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma’s heart plummeted into her stomach. Three hundred. Three hundred out of Hatchetfield’s original 4,000. Three hundred… </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Three hundred lives were a lot to rest on one man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tucked that other tidbit, that they had been at PEIP headquarters for two weeks, away. She could process that later. But three </span>
  <em>
    <span>hundred</span>
  </em>
  <span> people relied on Paul’s ability to come back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma knew that if she decided not to do anything, decided to leave PEIP headquarters and go to her plot of land in Colorado, that no one here would blame her. The infected were dead. Undead? Dead. The army could go shoot those three hundred singing zombie aliens, and she could go on her merry way, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. The man who came to Beanies and rescued her from her coworkers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. The man who protected her from the singing police officers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. The man who hadn’t judged her when she’d told him about Jane.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Paul.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The man who had willingly blown up the meteor, knowing full well it would likely get himself killed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Paul. The man she owed her life to more times than she could count. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t abandon him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma had never really considered herself to be a humanitarian, but fuck; three hundred lives were a lot. And, honestly? She was guilty about a lot, but if she could try to help one person, just one, great person, who could then help change three hundred other people’s lives, plus any of their family or friends who lived outside of Hatchetfield… she could do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...what now?” She asked, looking Xander Lee square in the eye. Whatever he said, she could deal with it. She would have to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Now,” he smiled, and it was a beautiful smile. One that let Emma know she had passed a test she hadn’t realized she’d been taking. The kind of smile that made her want to do anything to see it again. The kind of smile that made her want to be his friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ You start physical therapy. Because as soon as you can safely walk on that leg of yours, you are going to have a long, long chat with Paul.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Splintering</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It didn’t sleep. It didn’t eat. It didn’t do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For ten days, it stared at its reflection in the faux mirror, and sang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It knew the man was breaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For ten days, it stared at the thin, pale turquoise scars that littered its face and body, and sang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It knew the man was fracturing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For ten days, it stared into neon blue eyes that held nothing of the man they once belonged to, and sang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It knew the man was splintering. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And so it continued to tear him apart. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Answers...Of a Sort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma was exhausted. Twelve days of physical therapy down, and she wanted to cry. Twelve day of agony, and all she could do was shuffle around a bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this rate, she wouldn’t see Paul for months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At this rate, Schaffer was going to put a bullet through his and all the other infecteds’ heads and call it a day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently, when she and Paul had been running in the Clivesdale hospital, she had royally fucked up what the doctors there had done to fix what the helicopter had started. Apparently, she was damned lucky to still have her leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wanted, no, needed to be able to walk. If she couldn’t safely walk on her own, she couldn’t see Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking Schaffer and her fucking rules. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, Emma understood that it was for her own protection. Sure, she understood that Paul was infected. Sure, she understood that he would probably try to kill her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She understood all of that perfectly. She just didn’t give a shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander said that it was perfectly understandable that her leg was taking so long to heal. April, her physical therapist, said that she was doing great. Schaffer (the Bitch) said that it didn’t matter how ‘great’ or ‘understandable’ it was, Emma still wasn’t going to see Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Speaking of Xander, Emma thought she may have made a friend. A real friend. She literally couldn’t remember the last time she had had one of those. Maybe she never had. Paul didn’t count.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul...he was different. If he hadn’t died, Emma thought she might have asked him out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She would never have admitted it to him, but she’d noticed him long before… that day. She noticed that he always wore a black suit and tie, but that it was only a black tie on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, Mondays and Fridays he wore a dark green one, and on Thursdays, the tie was red. Every week. For like a year. Same tie schedule. On Mondays, he always ordered a plain black coffee, but then added a generous amount of cream and sugar to it at the little table off to the side. On Fridays he also bought a large caramel frap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma noticed how, every time she served him, he tipped five bucks. He tipped five bucks for a three dollar coffee. It was ridiculous. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was adorable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was devastating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was devastating, because she had noticed, had noticed </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and the way he </span>
</p><p>
  <span>had looked at her, and she had done nothing. If she had just </span>
  <em>
    <span>spoken </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him, had let him know that she was interested, too, they could have had months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now Paul was dead. Technically, anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she couldn’t do shit to help him because of her motherfucking uncooperative leg. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She scowled at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Are you going to even pretend to listen to me, or are you content to just glower at your own leg?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander. Right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d come to visit her at least once a day, usually for dinner, where he would share progress on the infected, or talk theoretical physics at her (she honestly only knew about one in three words when he talked about that shit; she just kinda nodded whenever he paused), or they would chat about anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight they were talking about...fuck. What were they talking about? The two of them were seated at the small round table in her room, having just finished dinner. She cast around the room, trying to jog her memory of what Xander had been saying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma winced. “Sorry, Xander. I don’t know where I went there. Could you repeat that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “Nope. I hate repeating myself. It’s my biggest pet peeve.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Asshole. But Emma could get that. She hated saying things over and over, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, can I ask you a question? It- it’s kinda personal? So, like, I get it if you don’t want to answer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looked up at her, curiosity shown in his eyes. “ I claim the right to withhold an answer, but go ahead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma took a deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you do it? Your husband, John, is a singing zombie alien- essentially dead. So, how do you do it? Function, I mean. ‘Cause, I barely knew Paul, or anyone else for that matter, but I still… I dunno, mourn him? I guess? You lost your fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You lost someone who you loved so deeply that you would tie yourself to them in marriage, and somehow...somehow you’re still smiling. You’re still chatting. I don’t get it. Like I said, I barely really even knew Paul for a whole day before he ‘died’, but I know I haven’t been a smiley, chatty, great to be around person. So… if it’s not too personal, -I totally get it if it is- but if it’s not, how do you cope?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander took a sip of water. Opened his mouth. Took another sip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma had always been bad with silence and awkward pauses. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I shouldn’t‘ve said anything. Forget it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” he cut her off, “No, it’s fine.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ran a hand through his short hair, and began to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ John is… very special. And not just to me. He is not just our General, but he also has a connection to something called the Black and White,” Xander looked towards the door, “ I honestly don’t know how much I can tell you about it, but I will say that it is another realm of existence that runs parallel to our own. Everyone has a small connection to it. Have you ever experienced deja vu?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nodded, intrigued. This was not what she had been expecting when she asked him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“ That is when a bit of your soul experiences the littlest peek into the Black and White, but it can’t process what it sees, and so your brain backfires, causing you to experience something in our realm ‘twice’. Most people experience this once or twice in their lives, but there are some who experience it maybe once a year, or others still, like myself, who experience it once or twice a week. PEIP recruits-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut off, glancing back at the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” Emma asked. She didn’t hear anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander looked back at her and shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing. Your room is monitored, and like I said, I don't know how much I can tell you. I was checking to see if I would be stopped from telling you this. You see, PEIP works with the Black and White, and therefore we need people with a connection to it. We recruit people who experience deja vu multiple times a year, as they are more… receptive to it. John, my husband, is extremely receptive to the Black and White, to the point where he can peer into it, and retain his memories of what he sees. His intel helps us garner more about the Black and White as a whole. I can’t go into that further at the moment, unfortunately, as it is absolutely fascinating, but you aren’t a PEIP, and so don’t have clearance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But John is absolutely vital to our organization as a whole. There is someone else here who can listen in on the Black an White, but they are young and inexperienced, and we don’t want to push her too far when she is so unprepared. I have theory about something else as well, but I won’t go further into that until I know more. So John is essentially our only asset. And without him, all we can do is continue with what we already have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma opened her mouth to ask who the other person was, but Xander held up a hand and continued speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ To get back to your question, I function because I have to. As the head of Ley Line and Black and White research, I am the only person who knows every last thing that PEIP knows about the ‘supernatural’. I know, that should I stop functioning, so would PEIP. And without PEIP, the world would be in some deep shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ And so I continue to research and plot and ‘scheme’ ways to get John back. I work because he can’t. And I smile because I know that everyone here is under a lot of strain, because we’re stretched thin. We lost one hundred soldiers in Hatchetfield. Only John and twenty others are still in one piece. I chat, because I know you are under a lot of strain, too. You’re healing. You’re mourning. I chat, because PEIP needs you to get Paul back, so he can bring everyone else back. So he can bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span> back. I chat, because we need you, Emma, to help us help save the world from the Black and White.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Tada! Y’all get a long chapter today!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Shattered...Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man had shattered, It knew.<br/>It knew, because now he fought with the reckless abandon that only those that knew they were dying had. <br/>He kicked and screamed and cried in his head, but It was the only one who saw. <br/>Who felt that little flame of life start to flicker in and out.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is the shortest chapter yet. Lol. Don’t hate me too much, because tomorrow’s chapters are already written, and shit’s about to go down.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. And the Man Fought</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The man fought with everything he had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t nearly enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It held him firmly in the farthest corner of his own mind, and forced him to watch as what used to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> body danced in front of the mirror. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t remember his name. Or what he used to look like. Or why the blue spittle that flew from his lips when It sang terrified him.  He couldn’t remember much of anything. He barely remembered a time when his body was under his control...or had it ever been? Maybe he had always been so small...</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t like that thought. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So he fought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He writhed in his mind. He screamed silently. If he could just turn his eyes away from the reflection for just a moment….</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. It was too focused on keeping them trained on the mirror. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the man tried something else. It took everything he had, but slowly, sooo slowly, he dragged his left hand over to his right. It took hours. Days. Eons? But then it was resting on top of the other hand. He had done it! Oh gods, he had done it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He twitched his thumb nail over the back of his right hand. He barely felt it. But he did it again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the man smiled, deep within his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>An interesting chapter, if I do say so myself; and I do- say so myself. Lol gotta love TTO... but anyways, here is today’s first chapter- if I can get my act together and do some writing today, y’all should have another chapter sometime later today. That’s the plan, at least. </p><p>Hope you enjoyed!</p><p>Love, SlytherLynn</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Hobbit and Worse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma was reading a book,The Hobbit, that Xander had lent to her, as she waited for him to arrive for dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been in Guatemala hiking the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sierra de los Cuchumatanes</span>
  </em>
  <span> when the first movie had come out, and she had never been a reader when she was a kid, so she’d never bothered to see any of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schaffer still came to visit her once a day, but still refused to tell her anything, so they kinda just...sat there in silence until the Colonel left. And physical therapy only took an hour, and Xander was busy most of the time, and could only visit in the evenings. A couple of days ago, she’d bemoaned how bored she was when he wasn’t there, and the next morning, he’d dropped the book off before he went to do...whatever it was he did. She was a fucking slow reader. She’d started yesterday, and was barely two chapters in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bilbo Baggins was an idiot, she thought, when he refused to join the party-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as the words popped into her head, she froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The book tumbled from her hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma I want you to join the party…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh fuck. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were there! The infected were in her room! Oh god, they were going to kill her! She could see Paul and Bill and Zoey and Nora and oh god she’d gotten away twice and they were going to kill her!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stood up, only to be yanked back down by the cuff still chaining her to the bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> “For your own safety, Kelly,” Schaffer had said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma sobbed now, and vomited as she could see the infected standing barely three feet away and they were coming closer and she was going to die and PEIP couldn’t save her this time, because they were all dead and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door burst open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma screamed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Xander was there, uncuffing her. He scooped her up and started carrying her towards the bathroom in the corner of her room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! They’re going to get us; we have to go!” She clawed at his shirt, desperately trying to get him to turn around. Why wasn’t he panicking? They were going to die!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Emma. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Look at me. There is no one here,” He spoke calmly as he set her in front of the toilet. “It’s just you and me. It was just a flashback. Just a tricky memory that popped back up. It’s alright. It’s alright. Shh…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held her hair back as she vomited again and again into the toilet. When she was done, he went to the table to grab a glass of water, and helped her hold it up as she drank.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god, it had felt so real. She could still see them if she closed her eyes. She shuddered. She could still see Paul, his eyes filled with mania as he sang at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma I want you to join the party…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shuddered again. Xander rubbed her back in small circles as she took in large, gasping breaths.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My first mission, I was maybe 20, and we went out to take care of this demon lord that fed on sadness, right? And his minions tore an entire town apart so he could taste the people’s pain and despair or something. We lost about twenty soldiers, and it was an absolute bloodbath. I remember how, for almost a year after, I would wake up at night and see them all torn apart, and think they were coming for me, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I get it, Emma. You went through something horrible, and were one of the only survivors. You watched as friends died-“ she flinched “-but you survived, and I get it. You’re feeling guilty, and you’re terrified the hive is going to get to you, but they can’t. They are being held on the other side of base. There are over a hundred soldiers between you and them. You are safe here, Emma. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, her breathing returned to normal, and she asked if she could take a shower to wash the vomit off of herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded, said he’d be right outside if she needed anything, and shut the door, giving her privacy. She didn’t even bother taking off her gray sweatshirt and pants, before stepping under the spray.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thirty minutes later she numbly stepped out of the bathroom, having showered and changed into another set of gray clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander was sitting at the table, talking to Schaffer. When they noticed her, they went silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She muttered. “Look, I’m sorry about what happened back there-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Schaffer stood up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kelly, we need you to come with us. It’s about Paul.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If anybody knows who I based *cough cough ripped off cough cough* the demon lord Xander talks about off of, please let me know! I’ve never met anyone else who likes the series it’s from.<br/>On another note, I’m having some difficulties writing the next chapter, so it may not be out by tomorrow. Sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. And It Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It startled as the door beside it opened, and three soldiers in black uniforms rushed at It and pushed It into the wall, then cuffed Its hands together in front of It. Then they put a muzzle over Its head, preventing It from singing or infecting them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They escorted it from Its empty room, and into the brightly lit hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was marched through a maze of twisting corridors until they arrived at a door numbered 2Ø1. Inside was a table and two chairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pushed It into one of the chairs, facing, once again, another faux mirror. The guards then tied Its wrists to the straps on the table, and carefully removed the muzzle from Its mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>Is this the room where it happens, the room where it happens?~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It sang tauntingly as It flexed Its hands in their cuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Too tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It couldn't escape. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The soldiers left the room, and a short woman entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She limped to the chair opposite It and sat down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh this would be fun.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ Well, hello little girl~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It purred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flinched.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off,” her voice was shaky, scared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of It. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~and why would I do that? I am an angel of music! You should be honored to be in the presence of something so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>more</span>
  <em>
    <span> than yourself. You, who are so small so weak, so-</span>
  </em>
  <span>“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m nothing and you’re a ‘Big Baddy’. But I don’t want to talk to you, and you know that. I want to talk to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Who could that be? I haven’t the foggiest. There is only me.~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It grinned, showing all of Its blue tinted teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, the woman flinched, but her eyes hardened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I doubt that. Let me talk to the man whose body you’re inhabiting. Or, do you not know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh It knew who she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Emmaaaa~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” It hissed, drawing out the last syllable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed “Good, you Fuc-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Emmaa Emma Emma Emmmaa Emma Emmmaaaaa~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up! You alien piece of trash. You know who I am, obviously, so you can quit that shitty horror movie gimmick. I. Want. To. Talk. To. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Not you, him.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Tap Dancing...Almost</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Emmaa Emma Emma Emmmaa Emma Emmmaaaaa~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that name. Knew the woman in front of him. Emma. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A coffee shop. Dancing. Black coffee… blue running down the side of a pot…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had said she wanted to talk to someone, a ‘him’. Him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Him</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He focused on the woman, her words not registering as she said something to It. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could distantly feel his mouth moving, but it felt miles away. He had no control over that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to let her know he was there, that he was listening!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, he wanted to hear something that wasn’t music directed at him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth was a no go. Hands. He’d moved his hands before. Could he move them again? Maybe...maybe try twitching them?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His body was being held absolutely still, so maybe she’d notice?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent every thought and bit of strength he had into his fingers, willing them to twitch. Oh gods, he prayed, just let them twitch!</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She didn’t know how much longer she could take this. It had been a fucking awful day, and now, looking at him, it was getting a whole lot shittier. There was nothing of Paul in his face. Nothing human. No, she really couldn’t take it much longer. Maybe she could leave and come back tomorrow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Movement caught her eye. Emma watched as the fingers of Paul’s left hand started to twitch ever so slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap. Tap. Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Paul, as she had dubbed the alien, was still singing inanities, but she ignored It. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While the rest of his body was utterly still, the index and middle fingers of his left hand tapped an unsteady beat onto the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap. Tap. Tap.    Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Tap.   Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>  Tap. Tap. Tap. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Once she paid attention to the twitching hand, Emma noticed something odd about the thumb. It was...blue. Specifically under the nail. It looked like… like…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A memory washed over her.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“...I knew Alice was already gone, but I still took him there and it killed him and it’s my fucking fault.” He started furiously rubbing the skin on the back of his hand. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. “It wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t’ve known for sure.” She put a hand over his, partially to stop him from rubbing the skin off, and partially in comfort, but then quickly pulled it back. As much as he may look like him, act like him, and just then, even sound like him, this wasn’t really Paul….”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well fuck,” Emma breathed as she looked at the dried blood under his thumbnail, and the raw, bloody, wet spots on his right hand. She spoke louder, “I see you, Matthews. I know you’re in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Paul stiffened further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, you’ve got quite the fucking grip on him, don’t ya, Alien? It’s too bad that I just need </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> tiny little clue that tells me you are a liar, and that my friend is still there. Just. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Please let him get it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Please let her be right about this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh god oh god oh god. <em>Please</em> let it actually be Paul.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Tap.</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>One tap. One very forceful tap on the table. One. Fucking. Tap.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So no one said they knew who the demon was. I’m devastated. Lol<br/>If anyone is interested, it’s Lord Loss from the Demonata series by Darren Shan. They are Great. And gory... but great. I found them my freshman year of Highschool and read all ten books over the weekend. I highly recommend if you’re looking for a good series.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. A Sea of Lost Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She saw him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I see you, Mathews. I know you’re in there.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She saw him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was real. She saw him, and he was real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could have laughed out loud if he’d had control over any part of his body that wasn’t his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damn.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least It had stopped singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t sure why, but It had gone completely silent</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he was complaining, of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, a-are you still there? You went… still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He twitched his fingers again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank god. Your eyes are so vacant… it’s like there’s nothing there. Can you see me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. Gods she was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>She laughed. “Oh my god, P- uh… I was so worried about you, but they wouldn’t let me see you until my leg was fully healed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her leg? What was wrong with her leg? He couldn’t remember something happening to her leg. What </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> he remember? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A lab. Cops. A man with a watch?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, are you still there? C’mon dude! Come back!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No...it wasn’t a watch...it was a cigarette...wasn’t it? And… it wasn’t a lab… it was a bar…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~welcome back to Drowsytown…~”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Pa-Matthews, what did you say?” She looked so worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was worried too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Memories were so tantalizingly close, but they kept flitting away before he could reach them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Welcome back to Drowsytown, that’s what I said,~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah I got that. What the fuck does it mean, you alien piece of shit?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He retreated further into the void where he could feel his memories should be. He lunged for one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It drifted away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lunged again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>Your buddy-wudd is drowning in a sea of lost memoriiiieeesss. Good luck finding him again…~”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. New Faces</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>...Your buddy-wudd is drowning in a sea of lost memoriiiieeesss. Good luck finding him again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma sat on her bed the next morning, completely drained. Yesterday had been complete shit. Well. Not completely. She had seen Paul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul </span>
  </em>
  <span>Paul. Not just the alien. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The highs and lows of the previous day left her feeling almost empty. She had been so thrilled to have something to read, but then that triggered a fucking...she didn’t know what it was- hallucination? Mental breakdown?  Yeah. That worked. And when she’d finally calmed down after that, Schaffer (the Bitch), had come in saying that it was time for her to see Paul, as there had been an “anomaly in his behavior”; of course the woman hadn’t said </span>
  <em>
    <span>what </span>
  </em>
  <span>that anomaly was, and had left Emma to figure it out on her own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then seeing Paul…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After over a month at PEIP headquarters, she had finally been able to see him. She’d been so worried about him…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And rightly so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been so </span>
  <em>
    <span>thin</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So fucking thin. Hadn’t anyone given him anything to eat? Of course the gray sweats had been wearing only accentuated how thin he was… but still. And his eyes..</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were so vacant. Even when the alien had been singing directly to- at?- her, they’d been so empty. And there were deep hollows under them, as if he hadn’t slept in forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d looked like shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’d first walked in, she had been certain the real Paul had been lost forever. The body in front of her had looked nothing like the man she’d noticed in Beanies all those months ago, or even the man who’d saved her life time and time again. It had looked...dead. Empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except for the glowing eyes, she would have thought he was dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the tapping had started, and she’d seen the blood, and for a moment, her heart had soared. Fucking soared, and then it had plummeted when he’d become unresponsive again. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Your buddy-wudd is drowning in a sea of lost memoriiiieeesss. Good luck finding him again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Emma was drained. Emotionally, physically, and mentally. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d been sitting on the edge of her bed for like, half an hour, just staring at a spot on the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...Your buddy-wudd is drowning in a sea of lost memoriiiieeesss. Good luck finding him again…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>How the fuck was she going to fix this? Lost memories… shit. If she had known Paul before shit hit the fan, like really known him, maybe she could have helped relive time spent together to try to jog his memory… but she hadn’t….</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her thoughts were interrupted when a voice rang out from the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You absolute fuckers! Where the hell is she?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And her door banged open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Shit. I- I didn’t think this was someone’s room… I was just lookin’ for my girl...uh...you ain’t her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the doorway was a...punk? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma didn’t know what she’d expected when her door had been flung open, but it certainly wasn’t a punk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked like he couldn’t be older than 20, if that. He wore jeans and a leather jacket, with… was that a kilt? Wait- he wasn’t in a PEIP uniform, and he wasn’t in the gray shit she and Paul had been given-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck are you that you don’t have to wear a uniform or sweats?” Emma demanded, standing up unsteadily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid smirked, eyes lighting up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait- you didn’t know? I’m The Man here. No one higher up to tell me I gotta.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah right, Kid. You didn’t know I was in here, and you were just screaming blue murder about not knowing where someone is. Plus, you don’t look a day over seventeen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kid drooped and shoved his hands into his pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ Nineteen, Lady. I’m nineteen. I’m a fucking adult. And I had to try, you’re obviously new here if you don’t know who I am. Can ya blame me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not waiting for a reply, he spun one of the table’s chairs around and sat backwards on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holding out a gloved hand, he said, “Name’s Ethan Green. My dads run this shithole, so I’m sorta allowed in, but since I ain’t PEIP, I don’t gotta wear the uniform. I came in today to look for my girl. Xander won’t tell me where she is, only that she’s somewhere here on base. I figured the research center would be a good place to start looking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, your ‘dads’ run PEIP? Holy shit, are you McNamara and Xander’s kid?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he nodded his confirmation, Emma couldn’t hold in her laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander. Sweet, nerdy Xander had a punk son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She couldn’t believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’re looking for ‘your girl’, huh? That’s why you bust in here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he rubbed the back of his head, “Lexi...Lex got infected. She works downtown, at the mall. She was workin’ late the night the… thing hit. Her kid sister got scared when Lex went ape  and started singin’ at her when she got home, so she called me, and I picked her up. We came straight to Base. I dunno what happened to Lexi, but uh… Dad- Xander- said that she’d been rounded up, and wasn’t exploded...I’m tryin’ to find her. Make sure she’s really here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit. Poor kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, Ethan, right? I- I’m sure your dad wouldn’t lie to you and tell you she was here if she weren’t. But, man, trust me. You don’t wanna see her. Not until PEIP finds a cure. If you got out of town that quickly, you missed a lot of fucked up shit. Trust me. You don’t want to see her; there isn’t anything left that makes her...her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She patted his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I know. That’s what Dad said. I’m not supposed to see Pops either, but I was gonna try to find him after I made sure Lex was alright. It’s just a bummer.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A ‘bummer’? Who the fuck said that?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan looked at his watch and cursed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I gotta bug out and get Banana from her lesson. Later…?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma. And Banana?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma… boss name. I gotta find out more ‘bout you. Oh, and Banana is Lex’s sister. It’s a joke between us. Her name’s Hannah. Anyways, I gotta split or she’s gonna freak out if I ain’t there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, he was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What. The. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How the hell  had Xander failed to mention that he had a son? Emma would have thought that with all their talking the last couple of weeks, he would have at least brought Ethan up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unless Ethan had been lying. But something told her that he hadn’t been. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And something told her, she could use him to get a lot of shit on PEIP.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Right, so as of right now, there won’t be a chapter update tomorrow- I have several other projects that I have to work on today, but there will definitely be one on Monday, and if things go according to plan, it’ll be a bit on the longer side.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Tap Dancing- the Reprise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So the stars aligned, and y’all get a new chapter. Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Alright, we’re gonna try something different today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman was sitting in front of him again. Emma. Why was she back? She had just left… minutes ago? Hours ago? wiping away tears. Why had she come back?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still looking for memories, but they kept flitting away before he could see them, so he’d wandered back, closer to reality, when he’d first seen her walk in again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, Dude… fuck it- I hate calling you that by the way, I only call people I don’t like or barely tolerate Dude… I like you. Schaffer told me not to call you by your name...said you should figure it out on your own... Ya know what? Fuck that. I’m gonna call you by your fucking name. If anyone thinks I absolutely shouldn’t, they can come in now and stop me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She waited a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Hey, Paul.” She smiled softly and put her hand over his unbloodied one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused his searching. He felt her hand on his. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>felt</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. And...Paul. That was his name. Paul. It...fit. As if a puzzle piece had been slid into place somewhere in his soul. Paul. He was Paul. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, I see you around here all the time, don’t I. What’s your name?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Paul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hey, Paul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...Like I said, we’re gonna try something different this time, since last night was a complete and utter fucking disaster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Was it? Or was it what you wanted, deep, deep down?~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled her hand back, but otherwise ignored It. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, I want you to tap your fingers on the table once for yes, and twice for no. Can you do that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes. Yes he could do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Was it easier than it had been… last night, did she say?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t tell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great! Fucking awesome, Paul. Do you remember who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. No…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Can you move anything else other than your fingers?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap. Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Damn. That’s ok. I mean… not really, but we’ll work with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sounded so sad. So sad, that he tried then. He really did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His foot shuffled forward slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I got a dumb question. What’s your favorite type of coffee? I know it isn’t black.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? That’s what he ordered every day. It was an easy order that couldn’t get messed up, and he wouldn’t have to go back and deal with people if there was a mistake. He liked black coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No. Paul, nobody likes black coffee. Nobody. Except maybe psychopaths… but your are clearly not a fucking psychopath. So, what’s your favorite type of coffee?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How was he supposed to answer that? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh shit! Uh...you like cappuccinos?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lattes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mochas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! I worked at a coffee shop for two years and I can’t think of any- oh my god. Oh my fucking god, Paul! Caramel frap! That’s it, isn’t it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How the fuck did she know that? Sure he’d ordered it from her a few times but…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tap.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ha! I am a fucking genius… you always order a large one on fridays, every single week.” She grinned proudly up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ You know, it’s really weird to see you without your suit. I’ve never seen you without one before. I kinda like it, but at the same time, it’s odd. It’s like… ok, this is gonna sound dumb, but it’s kinda like seeing Harry Potter without his glasses.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He usually only went out for work and shopping, the latter of which he did after work, and if he had to wear slacks, since it was company policy, he felt off if he didn’t wear a matching suit jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then there’s your fucking ties!” She tipped her head back and laughed. “You have that ridiculous tie schedule! Every day has its own tie, and it is completely fucking ridiculous, but it’s just another thing that makes you </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I love it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holy gods the woman was observant. He’d been following that schedule for years and as far as he knew, Alice was the only person who had noticed. The fact that Emma had, and they’d only just officially met… well. Maybe she’d been paying as much attention to him, as he’d been to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought made him smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” Emma breathed, “you’re smiling. Is that you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was him. That was him! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t get his mouth open to say so, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tapped yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy shit! That’s progress! We’re making fucking progress!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She squeezed his hand, and Paul felt his mouth quirk upwards more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door behind Emma opened, and a furious man stepped inside.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. A Confrontation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What did he tell you?” Xander demanded, still angry, but looking calmer than when he had first opened the door and pulled Emma out into the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. “Paul can’t say anything yet! He’s still tapping yes or no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander ran a hand over his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not Paul, Emma. Ethan. What did </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ethan</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan?” What the fuck?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma, please don’t play stupid. Yes, Ethan. What did he say to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was standing across from her in the middle of the deserted hallway, wearing a lab coat. Emma guessed he must have come straight from his labs, for whatever reason.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...he came in looking for some girl? I think he said her name was Alex? No...Lex! That was it! Oh, and he mentioned being your son, which, by the way, fuck you for not telling me- I thought we were friends. And then he said something about a girl named Banana having a lesson. I dunno. Why the fuck are you being so pissy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am being so ‘pissy’, because he was given direct orders not to come into this building. I am being so pissy, because he was explicitly told to stay in the residential quarter of base. I am being pissy, because there are extremely dangerous people and items housed in this building, and he should know better than anyone not to mess around with this shit!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oof. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissed</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Emma didn’t think she had ever heard Xander curse before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, Xander, he’s just a kid. Kids do that kinda shit all the time. I used to sneak out of my house like every night-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” he cut her off, once again running a hand down his face, “Emma. This is different. I cannot tell you why or how, but it is. Ethan… Ethan is different. From you, or me, or John, or nearly everyone. And he knows things about the organization that, should any non-PEIP, sentient thing in this building get a hold of, could possibly result in the destruction of Earth.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What. The. Fuck. What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, what?” How could a nineteen year old </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span> know enough shit to potentially destroy the planet? And, as much as it pained her to admit, since she obviously wasn’t a genius, Ethan hadn’t exactly seemed like the sharpest tool in the shed. So how the fuck could his knowledge </span>
  <em>
    <span>destroy Earth</span>
  </em>
  <span>?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma, please. Just tell me everything that he told you. This is for your own safety.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “I swear, everything is fine, I just need to know what he said.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t about him, is it? This is you trying to figure out if he told </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> shouldn’t know, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pushed his hand off her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. Fuck you. He didn’t tell me anything, and even if he did, I don’t think I’d tell you. Just...fuck off, Xander.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She brushed past him and started limping towards her room. Her mind was racing. She had been right, earlier. Ethan had information. And if Xander had been so worried his son had told her shit, that must mean that Ethan was prone to talking about stuff he wasn’t supposed to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she was gonna find out what that was. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this chapter is so short, this just seemed like the best place to end it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. My name is...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She didn’t come back in. She left with the furious man, and didn’t return.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What had happened? Was she in trouble? Was she going to come back? Would he see her again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no, he’d see her again. He had to. Emma was...she was…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was helping him. He could move. Not much, but he could. He could feel himself slowly start fitting properly back into his body, and feel It begin fading. Emma was helping him. She had to come back. She had to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But what if she didn’t? What if this was too much for her- if </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> was too much for her? He could understand that. But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely noticed as he started scraping his thumbnail across his index finger.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am thirty one</span>
  </em>
  <span>- wait, was he? He didn’t know. That’s what he’d been when he died...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am thirty one. I am dead. I was born in Hatchetfield, and have never once left the island</span>
  </em>
  <span>- except that he had, hadn’t he… when he went with his family to attack Emma… they’d been in a hospital...in Clivesdale. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue blood trickled down his finger and caked further into his thumbnail.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am thirty one. I am dead. I was born in Hatchetfield, and have never once left the island. My best friend is Bill, and Alice is my goddaughter. My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of clicking filled the small room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A punk walked in, saw him, and dropped the bobby pin he’d most likely used to pick the lock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, it’s you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A wee little chapter that originally wasn’t going to exist, but then inspiration hit. All in all, y’all ended up with like 1,000 words today, so...tada. Let me know if you think you know how Ethan knows Paul.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. A New Perspective</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He stared at the man cuffed to the table. The man who had saved his life all those years ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man before him was clearly one of the infected. His eyes were glowing, and he had blue blood leaking from his hand, but…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lexi had looked like that. Not as...scarred, but her eyes had been glowing that same shade of blue. But Lex hadn’t had intelligence behind her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan dimly noticed the bobby pin falling to the floor as he gaped at the man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck, it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man blinked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan found himself walking forward and dropping into the chair opposite the infected man. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, man…” he whispered, “Why’re ya here? None of the others are. You gotta be the only Infected in the damned building. Why’d they bring you in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been certain he wouldn’t get an answer- Lex hadn’t responded when he’d tried to reason with her. It had been something else, but not her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But then the man gave an awkward shrug and let out a little three note hum that could only mean ‘I dunno’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Holy fuck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck. You- you’re there, aren’tcha? Do ya...do ya know who I am?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There. He had to know. Every time he left base, he’d looked for the man. He’d had to thank him for...for…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man hummed a low note. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Damn, that was a bummer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well shit, now he had to give an answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh,” he ran a hand through his hair, “The name’s Ethan. Ethan Green.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stiffened. Barely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slow, jerky shake of the head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ethan saw a hesitance in the man’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without taking the time to question whether he should do it, Ethan took off his glove and showed the scarred hand he usually kept hidden. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man’s eyes went wide, and looked rapidly between Ethan’s hand and face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh he remembered him, alright.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope this leaves you with even more questions lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Memories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>That hand. The scars that covered its entirety… Paul knew that hand. Had been there the night the injury had occurred.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely recognized the young man in front of him. Could barely see him as the boy on the beach all those years ago, but… it had to be him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been fast asleep, and dreaming of the color blue. The deep grayish blue of the lake to be exact. The type with just the tiniest hint of green usually, but when the light hits it just right, the whole area explodes with depthless teal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The water was churning, roiling with the wind and the rain coming off of a storm, the lightning illuminating the beautiful deep greens in the water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he woke up. Heart pounding and covered in sweat, he awoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he laid there, trying to get his breathing under control, the image of the stormy water kept reappearing in his mind. Fine. He obviously wasn’t going to be getting back to sleep anytime soon, so why not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got out of bed and began the short walk to the beach. He’d decided to stay in pajamas- who else would stupid enough be awake and on the beach at three a.m. at the beginning of February?- but had grabbed his phone and baseball cap. He didn’t usually wear it, since he had to wear ‘nice’ clothes for work, but he always felt safe and comfortable when he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he approached the sand, Paul noticed the rapidly gathering clouds indicating a storm. Damn. Maybe it would keep moving and head into Canada. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No such luck. The rain hit the second his foot hit the sand. Strange. Honestly, he didn’t care. He’d been having water related dreams for days now, and being so close to the lake seemed to relieve a weight from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He meandered along the beach, despite the rising wind, and increasingly choppy waves. His mind felt almost...fuzzy. As if he were half asleep. But he kept walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lightning struck just off the coast. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>boom </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the resulting thunder nearly deafened him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And still he walked, feeling nearly as if he were back in his dream, watching the water crash to the shore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lightning struck again and again. But he was not afraid. He just kept walking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing he noticed was the thunder ringing out. Then, light flashed directly before him, and he could taste sulfur as he was knocked down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lay there for a moment, stunned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he heard gasping. Horrible, strained gasping. No one else had been on the beach with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat up, and was shocked to see a boy lying in the sand not two feet away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wore a singed white shirt and jeans, and had what looked like a leather jacket tied around his waist. But what caught Paul’s eye was the boy’s right arm. It was burnt. Badly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The skin on his hand was blackened and blistered. Remarkably, none of his fingers were horribly damaged but… Blisters trailed up his arm, past the sleeve of his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul crawled as best he could over the sand to the boy’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Hey. Are you alright? No, don’t answer that. That was a dumb question. What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy groaned and looked up at Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My name’s Ethan Green,” he said, “Who’re you? Where am I?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hatchetfield. Hold on, I’m gonna call the hospital,” Paul dialed 9-1-1, told the operator their location, and what was wrong with Ethan’s arm, when the boy started convulsing. Then went still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul knew CPR. Bill had required that he become Red Cross certified before he could babysit Alice, but he’d never had to actually perform it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stayin’ Alive. He remembered that from the training. One hundred beats. Thirty compressions. He could do this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan was breathing. Gasping again, but breathing. Distantly he could hear sirens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re ok. You’re going to be ok, Ethan. Where are your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy didn’t answer him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok. Ok. Okay. Ok,” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan started crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I-I don’t wanna die. Please!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. Help is coming. You know what?” On a whim, Paul reached for his hat, and put it on the boy’s head. “That hat? It’s magic. Nothing can hurt you while you’re wearing it. The magic means you can’t die, so you’re going to be alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn't remember what happened after that. Why couldn’t he remember? He’d forgotten the event- how could he have possibly forgotten that night?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ya never told me your name,” Ethan said wryly. “ Ya gave me the magic lid, but not your name. I’ve been lookin’ for ya since. Never got to say thanks for that night. My dads said that I’da been dead if ya hadn’t been there. ‘Parently I </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span>. So uh… thanks.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul just blinked. And the door to his room opened again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this one is later than usual- I got ideas, and ended up writing a chapter that isn’t gonna be included for a long while lol. But here is today’s. Hope it both answered and raised some new questions.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. A Group Confrontation</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma blinked when she walked into room 2Ø1. Looked around, then blinked again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This badass dude and I’re just catchin’ up. S’been a while,” said Ethan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Said Ethan. Said. Ethan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-What are you- fuck- What? You two know each other?” She couldn’t wrap her head around it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shrugged. Awkwardly, but he shrugged. He had some control of his body!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We met a few years ago, but not since.” Ethan smiled. “By the way, I still got your hat,” he fished something out of his pocket, “ Here ya go. If ya want, I can put it on, since your hands seem a bit...fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul smiled slightly and dipped his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan got up from the chair-</span>
  <em>
    <span> her</span>
  </em>
  <span> chair- and put it on Paul’s head. As he did, Emma noticed scars on his hand, the one that had been wearing the glove that now lay on the table. It looked like a fern had wrapped around his hand, leaving pale markings behind. She knew those scars! Hidgens had them, and had told her about them. They were called Lichtenberg figures. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the fuck had Ethan been struck by lightning?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but could someone explain what the fuck is going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is precisely what I would like to know as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander stood, arms crossed,  in the doorway that Emma had left open.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, where is Hannah? Did you forget to pick her up from her lesson again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xander, c’mon. Cool it. I’m not that stupid. She’s with Amanda. They’re watchin’ some Disney movie or other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander stepped into the room. “And did you think that perhaps Amanda would like an evening to herself? And might not want a nine year old child bothering her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad!” Ethan flung his arms up in exasperation. “Schaff loves the ankle biter. Banana is a cool, quiet kid. They’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>fiiine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Don’t be such a wet rag.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Fine. Even if Amanda is perfectly alright with Hannah being there, why are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you here</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Particularly after I specifically told you </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to enter this building?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul and Emma shared a glance. This was… awkward. And Paul couldn’t leave because A: he was still handcuffed to the table, and B: he was still infected and couldn’t fucking walk. And of course, Emma wasn’t going to leave without him, so they were both stuck in the too small room with the irate father son duo. Great.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma squeezed behind Ethan and sat on the ground next to Paul’s chair and rested her head on his lap. She was so fucking tired. She hadn’t really slept the night before, and it had been a couple of long fucking days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan strapped his glove back on and said, “I was lookin’ for Lex. You know that. I thought maybe she would be here. Obviously she ain’t, so I’ll leave. I wanna come visit my friends, though. And I will. ‘Kay? We both know you can’t stop me, so ya might as well just cool it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, he pushed past Xander and was gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man ran a hand across his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Emma, Paul. Emma, darling, are you sure that is a particularly...wise position you are in?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nice change of subject.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul’s back, Xan. I’m fine here. What the fuck was that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan...is a good kid. He really is. He’s just… very opinionated, and believes that since we adopted him when he was a teenager, he doesn’t have to listen to us. Even when we know best. John was always better at reigning him in than I was.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leaned against the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He is also legally an adult. He can technically do what he wants, except on base. But on base, he has friends who let him into places where he shouldn’t be. And PEIP is low on soldiers, so…” Xander trailed off and looked at Paul, “Glad to see some humanity in your eyes again, Paul. Maybe soon you’ll be able to help bring the others back as well, and I’ll be able to get some damned rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul just blinked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to go make sure Ethan actually picks the girl up before he goes home. Emma, please make sure you get some rest. Forgive me, but you look like shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stuck her tongue out at his back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t really look like shit, do I?” She asked Paul, leaning her head back to look up at his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked down at her and smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” he hummed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bastard!” She smacked his thigh, “You don’t look too hot yourself, so fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She closed her eyes. She really did need some rest. And besides, she felt safe. Paul was back, and even if he faded away again briefly, he was handcuffed to the table. It would be ok. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They would be ok. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she drifted off, she could have sworn she heard soft singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ Waaait for me; I’m comin’~”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. He Smiled</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul watched as Emma slept, head resting on his lap. Gods, he wished he could stroke her hair. He’d never seen it down before and was certain it would be soft. Unfortunately, he was still cuffed to the table. Or maybe that was a good thing. Every now and again, his hands would twitch. Only he wasn’t the one controlling them. So yeah. It was probably a very good thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept his legs as still as possible so as not to disturb her. She was so beautiful… her face was so relaxed when she slept; her usual smirk gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snored softly, and he smiled. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, sorry this one is so short... I’m not 100% sure when I’ll post next. I wrote this one before I posted #24, and then I slept for nearly 15 hours. Yeah...I hope you enjoy this one, and I’ll be back with more as soon as I can.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. A Family Dinner</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“So, didja find her?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had just left Amanda’s house, and were walking across the street to John and Xander’s house...to </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> house. Of course, he hadn’t actually lived in the townhouse in nearly two years. He’d gotten out as soon as he could. Not that it’d been </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> with them, but… Jimmy had always told him not to owe anyone anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If ya owe anyone a cent, they own you. And you’ll never get away from ‘em.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry Banana. Lex’s gotta be somewhere else. I did find a couple of interestin’ people you might wanna meet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He unlocked the front door and ushered her inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that was the question of the fuckin’ hour, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, a chick named Emma, and a guy I met a few years back...I dunno his name though. He saved my life back then…” he trailed off. Why hadn’t he asked the man’s name?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah tugged on the hem of his jacket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Beach. Doorways. Catalyst. The Hat.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. It was gonna be one of those evenings, wasn’t it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can’t go to the beach, Banana. Everything’s closed,” Ethan headed towards the kitchen. “Did you eat with Amanda?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waddya want?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lexi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan sighed. “Yeah, me too. But we can’t have her yet.” He crouched in front of the girl. “ But, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can</span>
  </em>
  <span> make us some chocolate chip banana pancakes, if you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. Then briefly wrapped her arms around his neck, and ran upstairs, presumably to her room...</span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> old room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan sighed, and began grabbing the ingredients from the shelves. Xander had always been a neat freak, and kept everything in the same place they had been two years ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he was mixing the shit together, the front door opened. Fuuuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan?” Xander called out, “You in yet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan sighed and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Yeah. In the kitchen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stepped inside the room, and looked around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where’s Hannah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck! Hannah? The girl ya told me to watch? Fuck. Yeah-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no idea where she is. I’m such an idiot, I forgot where I left her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan! Where. Is. She?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Upstairs. In her room, I think.” Ethan snorted. “You really have no fuckin’ faith in me, do ya?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan…” Xander said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, no, I get it. I dropped outta school and work at a mechanics shop. I’m fuckin’ useless, ain’t I?” He started slicing the bananas. “Fuck, I oughta just go, and leave Hannah with you, since ya obviously don’t fucking trust me with my girl’s kid sister, even though, without me, she woulda been one of them singin’ fuckers!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan!” Xander pulled the knife out of his hand. Fuck, he had mutilated the fruit. The slices were less slices and more...mush.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That is enough. Yes, you dropped out of school, but you are by no means useless.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan opened his mouth to object, but his dad raised a hand to stop him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am sorry if I have been overbearing about Hannah. She is very special, and we cannot afford to lose her. As the only non- PEIP I trust-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan scoffed. He couldn’t help it. Xander, trust him? It was a joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do trust you, Ethan. I do. But you make some questionable decisions. You went into a </span>
  <em>
    <span>locked room</span>
  </em>
  <span> in PEIP’s research building, for crying out loud, Son! We study organisms from all over the cosmos! You know that! And- and- and you willingly stepped through a port-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, I know. I’m a fuckin’ idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But you aren’t!” Xander exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but I am. We both know the lightning fucked with my head. I can’t spell a damn or keep shit straight. You know this.” He said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We tried-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I know. Look, Banana is probably chompin’ at the bit for some food. I gotta finish the pancakes. We can talk later.” Ethan brushed past his dad and grabbed the last two bananas to replace the ones he’d butchered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander held out his hand for the fruit and began slicing them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I remember teaching you to make these. It was right after we adopted you, and you wouldn’t let us do a thing for you. It was John’s idea to have you learn how to make the pancakes so you’d have a treat after you got out of the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan smiled softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and both of ya forgot that I had a bad hand. Think we burned more than we ate, that first night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They finished cooking in near silence, only speaking when necessary. Maybe dinner would be alright. And maybe he and Xander could get along for a while longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he called that dinner was ready, Hannah came bounding down the stairs, a massive grin on her face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow, Banana! You gotta be real excited for these pancakes,” Ethan laughed as she slid into a spot at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope! Webby says everything’s gonna be ok! She said the Catalyst is here! Ethan, Lexi is gonna be ok soon!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan and Xander shared a glance. There went the nice family dinner he had just thought could be possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander slid out of his seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have to go back to work. I will be back as soon as I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope y’all enjoy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Waking Up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sleeping on the floor with your head on someone who is sitting in a chair’s lap is not comfortable, Emma decided, seconds after waking up in that precise position.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was humming softly above her, and when she finally opened her eyes, she could see he was watching her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Creepy,” she groaned as she stood up. God her back ached. Still, that had to have been the best night’s sleep she’d had in… about a month.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then she looked up. And started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Xander in the room?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ ‘m sorry, but what the fuck are you doing here?” She yawned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, Emma. You know, when I told you to get some rest last night, I did not mean that you had to sleep </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He smiled at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What?” It was too early for this. She needed to be awake for at least half an hour before she could deal with people like a normal human being. Or coffee. Coffee would work just as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you sleep in here?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh… ‘cuz it felt safe? I dunno. Why are you here? What time is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ It felt safe? ...hm. You know, Emma, I wouldn’t think that sleeping with my head in a part alien’s lap would feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>safe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bristled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You wouldn’t? How interesting.” She paused and let out a breath. “Look, it’s just that… just that… he’s the only person I have left. And yeah, I don’t know him that well, since we’ve only known each other technically for a few days, but… yeah I feel safe. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m glad you feel that way, Em.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey... so.. #1, sorry I didn’t update yesterday- I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go, #2, Sorry this chapter is so short- I genuinely have no real excuse. And #3, there is a direct quote from Agatha Christie’s Mousetrap in this chapter. If anyone knows who said it in the play, you will quickly become one of my favorite people. I played this character a couple months ago, and have a giant soft spot for them.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m glad you feel that way, Em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That...that wasn’t Xander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, she turned her head to stare at Paul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still cuffed to the table, and wearing the old blue hat Ethan had put on him earlier. Still wearing the horrible gray sweats PEIP forced them both to wear. His face and hands were still scarred a pale blue, but...his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They weren’t glowing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were still a brighter blue than they’d been before, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” She breathed, barely daring to hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Em.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sobbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never considered herself to be a particularly emotional person, but hearing Paul speak without a hint of a melody in his voice, she sobbed. Actually sobbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A-are you okay? Em? What’s wrong?” Concern lined his face’s every feature. His hand twitched as if he would reach for her if he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma hiccuped. “Paul. You’re back! You’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>speaking</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know! Em, I know.” Paul grinned, and Emma was fairly certain her heart would crack from the beauty of it. She’d never seen him smile that widely or sincerely before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander chose that moment to speak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To answer your previous question as to why I am here, Emma, it is because I received intel claiming that Paul here was fully functioning as a human- well...</span>
  <em>
    <span>mostly</span>
  </em>
  <span> human- being once again.” He procured a key and went to Paul’s cuffs, unlocking them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul clenched and unclenched his hands, trying to get proper blood flow back into his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been cuffed to that table for nearly three days, now, Emma realized. How was he not… a mess?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was a problem for another time, she thought, as Paul engulfed her in a massive hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, Paul. We made it!” </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yay! A purely happy chapter! Finally lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Testing and Horrors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He couldn’t hear the music anymore. Couldn’t feel the rest of the Hive connected to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul hadn’t really noticed them before, when It was there. It had been familiar with the constant melodies and subconsciouses of Its family, but now… Now his head felt empty. Light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had come into the room and properly introduced himself shortly after Emma had fallen asleep on his lap, and told him that he was free to go and have some tests run. But Emma looked exhausted, and Paul hadn’t wanted to wake her by shifting and clanking the metal of his cuffs, so he had asked Xander to wait until she woke up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being able to speak, to have his own mind back completely under his control, was incredible. Shortly after the kid, Ethan, had left, Paul had felt himself...waking up, more and more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The day was spent in a blur. He was ushered from his holding room and sent to a lab. There, he was pricked and poked and prodded by people in...hazmat suits? Xander hadn’t been wearing one, so why were they? The scientists drew still cerulean blood and placed it in several vials. They took swabs of saliva, which was slightly viscous and blue tinted, Paul noticed with a shudder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had him lay on a table for the better part of the day, as they proceeded to take him apart to see what made him different from the others. From what he could tell, they weren’t finding anything, and would have to run more extensive tests. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And they asked him questions. So many questions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you recount your experiences leading up to your infection?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you recount your experiences post infection?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did, although there were a few blank spaces where he couldn’t remember what happened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded as if they suspected that, but gave no further information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And what did you feel when you were being infected?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on and on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, and then there was the one question they kept repeating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you retain your humanity? How are you ‘alive’ again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the answer he kept giving was: “I don’t know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He genuinely didn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently PEIP really didn’t believe him, because they just. Kept. Asking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hours later, a harsh woman who introduced herself as Colonel Schaffer escorted him to his new room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are not to leave your room without an escort, Mr. Matthews.” And she shut the door. And locked it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently he </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> leave his room without an escort. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked around his new cell. White. The entire room was a pristine white. There wasn’t a speck of color in sight. It was sparsely furnished, with a bed, a bedside table, a small dining table with two chairs that had all been attached to the ground, and a doorway that probably led to a washroom. Hopefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt disgusting. Blood caked his hands and arms, and he could only guess how long it had been since he’d showered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made his way to the doorway that he prayed had a bathroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It did. Thank the gods.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he stepped inside, he froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mirror, or, more accurately, what was in the mirror, was awful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked dead. Like, if he ran into himself in an alleyway, he would have run away screaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul touched the glass. That...that couldn’t be him, could it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in the reflection was a skeleton. Barely more than skin and bone. His eyes weren’t that color. They were blue, yes, but not that blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took off the hat Ethan had returned so he could get a closer look at his face. His skin was almost….green? But his cheeks were flushed with a hint of blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Gods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t thought about the implications of having blue blood. His entire body was tinged green, as he quickly tore off his shirt to see if the color was everywhere. It was. As were the pale blue scars that rippled across his chest. His face had a few thin scars, but these… they were… they were…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t…. like….musicals!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Blackness. Blackness and agony, and then nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d blown up a meteor. And had been standing barely two feet away from it. How had he not seen them before? How had he not…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been blown up. He should have been dead. But whatever it was that kept his family whole after having their guts ripped out or heads cut open must have… put him back together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t pretty. Shades of blue and green swirled across his chest, painting a gruesome picture of what had happened to him. Raised dark blue lumps of scar tissue and concave green spots disfigured his entire body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He threw up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he looked back up into his face, his eyes were glowing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What happened? Why were they glowing that horrible blue? They hadn’t been before, they’d been wrong, but not twin beacons of cobalt. What the fuck had happened? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~hello, my dear      Hello.     My dear, hello!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hello.     My dear, my darling~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. No. Nonono.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~welcome back!     Welcome….     Wel</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome, we’ve missed you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Missed you    Welcome back!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve missed you.~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~No! Please gods, no!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And just like that, he could hear the music again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Right....please don’t hate me. It had to be done to further the plot. I promise, I’m not trying to be cruel.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Attempted Shopping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hannah was being a little shit again. An adorable and sweet shit that he loved, but a shit nonetheless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana, please, we gotta go to the Commissary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They should have left twenty minutes ago, but she shook her head so hard that the braids he had spent nearly an hour on swung into her face. He crouched in front of where she sat, firmly perched on the bed in his old room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck! C’mon. Why not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Webby says we gotta wait.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webby. Great. The fucking imaginary spider.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran a shaking hand through his hair. Damn it. There were days when his scarred hand shook more than others, and today was clearly gonna be one of them. He wished Lex were there. She always knew what to do to help Hannah and to get her to cooperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Webby says we gotta wait, huh? Wait for what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah just shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“D’ya think Webby knows that we’re gonna need to pick up more food later? Or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, she just shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan stood and turned away. That was a mistake. In the month since they’d arrived at John and Xander’s house, he’d done everything he could to avoid this room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’d first moved in when he was fourteen, the two men had surprised him by fully decorating his room with Rolling Stones and Beatles posters, records, and other shit. He’d mentioned while in the hospital that he’d liked them before, so they’d gone ape, and bought the crap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d loved it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d hated it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d kept it all. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Better to owe someone for somethin’ ya got, than something ya ain’t.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jimmy had always had strong opinions on debt. Mainly- don’t have it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, looking at his room, Ethan could feel that old combination of panic, nostalgia, and homesickness that had driven him out of John and Xander’s home the day he turned eighteen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, I’m sorry, but we gotta go to the store. We’re outta bananas and bread, and all the shit we need to eat. Xander asked us to go. He’s got work, and we don’t, so we gotta go. He’s lettin’ us live here rent free. It’s the least we can do. C’mon. If there’s enough, you can pick out the ice cream we get for dessert.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could see the fight going on in her mind written on her face. Did she listen to Webby, or did she help out and get ice cream?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, ice cream won out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And just as they reached the jalopy, his phone rang. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gods, he hated the thing. It was so fuckin’ annoying and overly complicated, and John and Xander had given it to him, and wouldn’t let him pay them back. He couldn’t stand it, even if he got why it was necessary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to bring Hannah to the research building, now.” Xander said, sounding slightly worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so yesterday, I get in trouble for bustin’ into the research center, but now you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to go in?” He laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, I’m not joking. Get Hannah here, now. There is a situation, and I need her council.” Oh he was definitely worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan asked, “Dad? What’s goin’ on? ‘S everything ok?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is currently under control, and there is no real danger, but I need Hannah here as soon as possible. Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Yeah. In the jalopy now. We were about to get the groceries. Be there in ‘bout ten.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What the hell had happened?</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Lucky ducks, y’all get two chapters today, lol. Even if this one doesn’t answer the questions raised in the last one.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Xander Lee</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Xander Lee was a smart man. He knew this because he’d graduated top of his class at Stanford for Theoretical Physics. He knew he was smart, because PEIP had found him before he’d graduated and had offered him a position in their ranks. He knew he was smart, because he’d built a portal that no one else had ever even believed was possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he looked at Paul Matthews from the cameras implanted in the man’s room, Xander didn’t feel terribly smart at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The man was curled in on himself, hands clutching at his ears. Paul had been fine, albeit stressed, only moments before. Xander had watched as the man had vomited blue bile into the sink, and started singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~No! Please gods, no!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander spoke into the intercom system.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? Can you hear me?” His head whipped up, eyes searching for the source of the voice. “ Hello, Paul. This is Xander. We met the other day? Do you remember?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I currently speaking to Paul Matthews, or the alien hive mind?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There. A question that would force a verbal answer. A test.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul paused. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Shook his head, and gasped, “Paul. I’m</span>
  <em>
    <span> ~Paul!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander let out a sigh of relief. “Good. Paul, can you tell me what happened? Is it safe to assume that you are hearing the music again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in question nodded. “Y</span>
  <em>
    <span>~yes~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he shook his head as if to clear it, “P-please. I don’t- I</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ don’t know whyyy!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander watched as Paul started furiously rubbing the back of his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah had said that the Catalyst was there, and she’d referred to a Catalyst several times in the last few days, ever since Paul had started responding again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or rather, Webby had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webby. The giant spider who spoke to Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Webby. The Eldritch Being that John had made contact with only once before. Only once, but it was enough of a coincidence for Xander to arrange for Hannah to have lessons to understand more of what she was hearing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Paul was the Catalyst… and Hannah had known that he had returned mentally…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled out his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan picked up on the third ring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need you to bring Hannah to the research building, now.” Xander said, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, so yesterday, I get in trouble for bustin’ into the research center, but now you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> me to go in?” Ethan laughed, sounding annoyed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul started humming, and scratched at his hand harder, rocking slightly to the rhythm of the song.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, I’m not joking. Get Hannah here, now. There is a situation, and I need her council.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan asked, “Dad? What’s goin’ on? ‘S everything ok?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is currently under control, and there is no real danger, but I need Hannah here as soon as possible. Alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan sighed. “Yeah. In the jalopy now. We were about to get the groceries. Be there in ‘bout ten.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>jalopy</span>
  </em>
  <span>. After five years, Ethan still called cars jalopies. Xander would have laughed if he weren’t so worried about Paul, and the possible implications of his relapse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Thank you, Ethan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hung up and spoke into the microphone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? I have someone coming who might be able to help you-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em</span>
  <em>
    <span>~maa~</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” He interrupted, almost desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Actually….Xander hadn’t even considered bringing Emma in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, well- yes. And someone else.” He turned to the Colonel, “Shaffer, get Emma in her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded, and walked briskly out of the room. Xander would never understand how she always remained calm and collected, even in the midst of an emergency. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? Are you still with me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Ye-~</span>
  </em>
  <span> yes,” Paul responded weakly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good, can you get yourself either to the bed or one of the chairs?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I-I don’t know. I- yes. I can. Yeah. Sure. Mhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander let out another breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Once you’re situated, I am going to send in a crew to cuff you, so that you cannot inadvertently harm Emma or the other girl we are sending in to help you. Is that alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Whether it was alright or not was irrelevant. Paul had to be cuffed. They could not jeopardize Hannah’s safety.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded and got up shakily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>~understaand~”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, he made his way to one of the chairs situated around the table in his room. His movements appeared jerky; as he took a step in one direction, his other leg would swing out and propel him in another, in an awkward dance. Xander watched Paul attempt to make headway for about two minutes, before taking pity on the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, just- just stand there for a moment. I’m sending guards in to help you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ok. Okay okay okay okay,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he sang, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sorry! S~</span>
  </em>
  <span>so</span>
  <em>
    <span>~sorry!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. They’ll be there in a moment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander motioned for two of the soldiers to go help Paul to a chair. As they left, a livid Emma barged into the room. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Finally! A chapter from Xander’s perspective. I hadn’t realized exactly how difficult it would be to write someone who is so much more intelligent than I am. Oh well. In the next chapter or so, y’all are going to get some answers! Yay! Hope y’all enjoyed</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. The Hat</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma stormed up to Xander. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to ask you again, and you’d better fucking answer. What-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander held up a hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do not know, Emma. He was fine one moment, and in the next he was clutching his head and singing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head. “No. No. He was fine this morning. Paul was back! You must have fucked something up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assure you we did not. Look, as soon as he is secured, I am going to send you in. And as soon as Hannah arrives, she’ll be there and she might be able to help. If she cannot, she should at least be able to tell us what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. Fine. At least she’d be there for him. But what the fuck had happened? He’d been fully aware and shit just this morning, and now he was back to singing?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma? You can go in, now. It’s the second door on the left. If you feel unsafe, just leave. I’ll be watching from here the entire time.” Xander said, and gestured to the various screens on the wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Xander. He won’t hurt me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And she turned her back on him, leaving the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Second door on the left. One. Two. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even if he hadn’t told her which room it was, she would have been able to guess, A, because of the guards standing outside, and B, because of the singing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused outside the doorway. It wasn’t the voice he’d had in the holding room, bitter and taunting. This was more like how he’d sounded in the hospital. Scared and horrified, but with the overlaying happiness the infection forced upon his voice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma braced herself, and walked into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s singing faltered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Paul</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting with his hands cuffed together in his lap. She watched as his legs jerked sporadically in an imitation of a dance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what was almost worse than that was that he was shirtless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, she hadn’t considered how much damage there would be. Both from the explosion, and from the bullet wounds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god.” She said again, her hand drifting to her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d seen the scarring on his face and hands, but this…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Th-that bad?” Paul gasped out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah. It’s really not.”-it was-“ I just wasn’t expecting you to be shirtless. You never struck me as the kind of guy to strut around without his shirt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He choked out a laugh. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>~don’t strut!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Paul clamped his mouth shut, but couldn’t seem to stop the near frantic humming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma unfroze and knelt down at his side, putting his cuffed hands in hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, hey, hey. It’s ok. Okay? Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hands trembled as he took a breath. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Ok,~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good.” She said. “Can you tell me what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Nooo~</span>
  </em>
  <span> I-I don’t know. I saw myself, and I took the hat off, </span>
  <em>
    <span>~cuz I couldn’t quite see my face right~</span>
  </em>
  <span> and I-“ he shuddered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Emma stroked his hand, careful to avoid the open wounds on them. She’d have to make sure PEIP patched them up before they got infected, or Paul rubbed them entirely raw and bloody… She’d also have to talk to him about that. But not now, now he was...he was staring at the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned, and her mouth fell open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was Ethan fucking Green. But in front of him, not afraid of the infected man she stared down, was a girl. A little. Fucking. Girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Honestly! She couldn’t have been older than ten! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck are you doing here?” She asked Ethan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad said to get Hannah here ASAP, so I did.” He replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah…”</span>
  <em>
    <span>And as soon as Hannah arrives, she’ll be there and she might be able to help.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>was Hannah? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl walked further into the room, no fear in her eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” she said in a high, clear voice. “Webby told me about you. You’re the Catalyst.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked at her, eyes wide with...was that wonder? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” he breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked to Ethan and raised her brows. He just shrugged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Webby says you took off your hat. Where is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shuddered. “I-in the b-ba-bathroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Hannah looked at her, still perfectly calm. “Hello, Firebringer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” What the hell was this kid on about? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl walked past her and into the bathroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This,” she said as she returned, now holding the hat Ethan had given Paul last night, “is a magick hat. It is imbued with the power of eldritch forces-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah. This ain’t the time for jokes. That hat ain’t magic, and ya know it.” Ethan scolded the girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not!” That was the first bit of personality she’d shown since walking into the room, “Webby told me. Webby doesn’t lie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but who the fuck is Webby?” Emma asked the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one answered her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When We wear this hat, nothing can hurt Us. And only We can take it off one another, Webby says.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put the hat on Paul’s head. His feet stopped tapping on the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And the Hive is hurting the Catalyst. But when he wears the hat, It can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma watched as Paul’s eyes slowly dimmed until they stopped glowing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy fuck,” Ethan breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy fuck indeed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And slowly, we get answers. More questions, too. This was such a fun chapter to write! I hope y’all enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. Biology and Magic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The hat was magic. The hat was </span>
  <em>
    <span>magic</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fucking hell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had a cure for the apotheosis, which meant soon Lex would be alright, and so would John and everyone else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then they would finally leave Hatchetfield. Thank fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would take time, he knew, to get everyone cured. There was only one hat, and if Paul was any indication, then they would have to find a way to lock the magic onto the person… Ethan shook his head. He wasn’t smart enough to even try to figure that out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hat was magic. The man, Paul, had given it to him right after he’d stepped through the portal…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he’d been in the hospital, everyone had been astou- ast- shocked that he hadn’t been dead, or more seriously injured. But if the hat really did prevent its wearer from getting hurt…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hadn’t really been lightning, even though that was what PEIP had put on his record. There’d been a storm, so it was likely enough. But still, he’d stuck his hand into the glow, and it had shocked him, like lightning would have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan had looked up lightning strikes after. He’d read what it could do to a person’s brain, their body. He’d gotten lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But maybe it hadn’t been luck, after all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe the hat had healed him…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He jumped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been sitting on the floor in the hallway, while Hannah, Xander, Emma, and Paul had discussed how they were going to do whatever it was they had to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t had anything worthwhile to contribute, and he couldn’t follow what his dad had been saying, so he’d left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now Emma was standing over him, leaning slightly on one leg, as if the other were bothering her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey?” Why wasn’t she inside with the others?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, my dude, had the right idea getting out of there. I may have been studying biology, but I’ve got no idea what Xand- your dad- was talking about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slid down the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, this thing needs to heal faster!” Emma gestured to her leg, to the thick, ugly scar on the thigh. “It’s fine for walking for a bit, but not standing around for a while. Then it fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I bet.” Ethan said, “Ya studied biology? My younger brother used to love it. He was the smartest of the three of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” He didn’t give her any more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...What happened to him?” She hedged.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okaay. What about your other sibling?” Emma asked as she rubbed her leg.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said he was the smartest of the three of you. That implies that there was someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, uh- yeah. Jimmy. My older brother. Henry was younger’n me by a few years. Jimmy died when I was ‘bout thirteen. He uh...he gave me this jacket before.” He gestured to his leather jacket. For years, he’d been terrified that he’d outgrow it, and wouldn’t be able to fit in it anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Ethan.” She touched his shoulder, “I know what it’s like to lose a sibling, granted, she passed just over a year ago, but still...if you ever wanna talk, you know where to find me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” Ethan searched for something to say, “Uh...biology! You like it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grinned slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I wanna start a pot farm. Figured I’d better learn bio first. I’ve got this crazy old professor… well… I </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> a crazy old professor- he got infected- but e was great. Professor Hidgens. I’ll miss him. I used to bring him groceries, cuz he got struck by lightning when he was a kid, and he only liked going outside when he had to teach.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan froze. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hidgens?” He asked as unsuspiciously as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Henry Hidgens. He was a fucking genius. Supposedly he predicted the apotheosis years before it happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry Hidgens. Henry Hidgens. Henry. Hidgens.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry had loved biology. Had brought home every bit of wildlife he could find so he could study it. And lightning?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan was on his feet before Emma could say anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” He stormed into the room and immediately locked onto Xander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Xander and John had </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span> to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How fuckin’ could you? You said they were all dead! You said Henry was dead! But now I find out he was still kickin’ on this fucking island, after all these fuckin’ years?” He shoved Xander. He didn’t care that Paul was there, that Emma had just limped into the room to see what was wrong.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! Fuck that! Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t you tell me my fuckin’ brother was still alive?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mwahahaha. Once again, more answers, and more questions</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. Questions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul was exhausted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every part of his body hurt, but still Xander and Hannah were in the room talking. Emma had left just moments before, and a pang of jealousy spiked through him. Why had she left?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander was staring at him expectantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, could you r-repeat that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated how shaky his voice was. It was still more...melodic than it used to be but… at least he was no longer outright singing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul. The only plausible cure we have at the moment is that hat. Would you be amenable to allowing us to borrow it to see if we can replicate the results, or use it on some of the other infected to see if it will help them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They wanted his hat. It was his! He’d only just gotten it back from Ethan. But...if </span>
</p><p>
  <span>it could help…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright,” Paul said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, sir. We will collect it tomorrow morning. If you would like, we could send in someone to help keep you calm when we take it off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Somehow he hadn’t realized they would have to take it off of him. And he would turn back into </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>. One of them. The singing fuckers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded tightly, not trusting himself to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah was staring at him, her dark gaze heavy. When she’d first walked in, she’d been a near beacon of light. Every part of him left had yearned and stretched for her to notice him, to find him, to help him. And she had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He met her gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, for helping me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled meekly and nodded, then hid halfway behind Xander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl had been so confident half an hour ago, but now seemed so tiny and shy. Odd.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door banged open, crashing into the wall. Hannah jumped and ran out from behind Xander and hid behind the bed as an irate Ethan Green stormed into his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?”  He spat, face twisted with a rage that Paul had not seen since he was a child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How fuckin’ could you? You said they were all dead!” Emma limped into the room to see what was the matter, and Paul let out a small sigh of relief that she was alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said Henry was dead! But now I find out he was still kickin’ on this fucking island, after all these fuckin’ years?” Ethan pushed Xander, who stumbled back a step, hands raised placatingly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoved Xander’s hands away. “No! Fuck that! Why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t you tell me my fuckin’ brother was still alive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah whimpered from behind the bed, and that was the last straw for Paul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood and ran to Ethan, grabbing the boy’s hands from behind as they reached to shove Xander again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stop</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Kid, you have to calm down.” He said as forcefully as he could. Which admittedly wasn’t terribly forceful. Paul had never been particularly… strong willed- on anything, and had never particularly felt the need to be forceful before the apotheosis had occurred. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Ethan sagged in Paul’s arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad, why’d you fuckin’ lie?” His voice broke, and Paul felt the sob before he heard it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was my </span>
  <em>
    <span>brother</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I was alone, and ya coulda </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> me he was still alive, still here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander took a step forward. “He wasn’t your Henry, Ethan. This Henry grew up with an older brother who loved him. We didn’t tell you, because in this universe, Ethan Green died of a heart attack approximately ten minutes after Paul restarted your heart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked at Paul. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What the fuck is going on here?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her eyes seemed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shrugged. He wasn’t entirely sure himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He was still Henry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not your Henry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, but did you say that Henry was your brother? As in, the Henry Hidgens I just told you about five minutes ago? As in, my </span>
  <em>
    <span>sixty-five year old </span>
  </em>
  <span>professor? Could someone please tell me what the fuck is going on?” Emma had her hands on her hips, and looked at each of them in turn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul guided Ethan to the bed as Xander collapsed into one of the chairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears streaked down the teen’s face as he stared at Xander, betrayal carved into every feature. Hannah crept out from behind the bed and sat tentatively down next to Ethan, pulling his hand into hers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander opened his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It- it is a long story. And not a word of it leaves this room.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, so I know I’ve been promising answers to come in the next chapter for like the last five, but I swear this time you’ll get them. However, the next chapter may not come out tomorrow, because there are a lot of tiny details I want to include in it, so y’all will most likely get it on Tuesday. Then again, every time I say that there won’t be a chapter, I end up posting one, so who fucking knows.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. Multiverses and Stories</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Right, trigger warning for attempted suicide. Just wanted to let y’all know.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“As you all know, the town of Hatchetfield is located on an island on Lake Superior. What you may not be aware of, is that the island is positioned directly on a convergence of ley lines. Do any of you know what ley lines are?” Xander asked, peering at everyone in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all shook their heads- all except Ethan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander sighed, and rubbed at one of his temples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting you to, although it would have been rather nice to have someone else recognize my true area of expertise.” He gave them a small smile, then continued.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Humans have known about ley lines for thousands of years, although they have only really been studied for the last hundred. Alfred Watkins described ley lines to be ‘Earth’s energy bands’, and found that previous humans had followed these bands to place churches, wells, etc, all over the UK. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, these ‘energy bands’ stretch all across the planet, and there are places where several converge, like Hatchetfield. I won’t go into the details or specifics now, but I will say that while Watkins was correct that these bands are all over Earth, he was rather shortsighted in his thesis. Ley lines appear in every known bit of the universe we live in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused to let the information sink in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have found ley lines on Mars, the mountains and valleys all lining up with our own on the ley lines grid on specific days of the year, and those sync up with the ones on Venus, and so on and so forth. Every last bit of space exploration we have done has provided us with more and more evidence that ley lines exist, even outside our own solar system; where one planet rotates, another falls into the path it vacated, keeping the connection. And Hatchetfield is connected to no less than seven different pathways.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven?” Emma cut in, “If what you’re saying is true, and there are so many all over the universe, then how the hell is seven important?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, that is a good question, Emma. If there are so many lines, why would seven be deemed odd?” He asked rhetorically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah piped up from next to Ethan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven is special. Seven is the strongest number. Whole.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes. That’s exactly it.” He looked at the others in the room. “Did you ever study the Bible?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God finished the world on the seventh day, correct? There are seven Deadly Sins, seven Virtues, and seven gifts of the Holy Spirit. Seven hills in Istanbul, Jerusalem, and Rome. There are seven candles in a menorah. The Hebrew word for fullness, </span>
  <em>
    <span>saba</span>
  </em>
  <span>, is the derivative for </span>
  <em>
    <span>sheba </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>shaba</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which mean seven and oath, respectively. When God destroyed the Earth with the flood, he swore an oath to never do it again, and effectively signed that covenant with a rainbow, which bears seven colors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leaving Christianity and Judaism, in Hinduism, there are seven rishis, or sages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seven chakras, seven holy cities, seven holy worlds, on and on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He paused for a breath before continuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven colors in the rainbow and seven musical notes. Seven oceans with seven continents. Seven vertebrae in the neck. Seven classical planets that can be seen by the naked eye. Seven days in the week. Everywhere you look, sevens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander looked Emma dead in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven Prophets for seven eldritch beings. Seven catalogued events of time travel in the last seven hundred years, all of which took place here in Hatchetfield. In the last twenty one years alone, three people traveled through time. Three is another important number, or will you take my word for it this time?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one said anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. Anyways. Because of the positioning of the ley lines, Hatchetfield is practically a beacon of energy shining into the cosmos. Now, I want you all to picture a chess board. This is the multiverse. The endless black and white squares are each a universe or dimension. Mmm… Have you ever seen the blanket boards at Cracker Barrel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Picture that someone took it off the table, and threw it in a heap on the floor, where ridges formed, wrinkling the smooth squares. The multiverse. Or rather, the Black and White. And of course, now that the infinite Black and White is layered, wrinkled if you will, over and over upon itself, when the energies build up to be too much to be contained here in our Great Lakes biome, it ruptures, ripping through these layers. And this is where our Ethan comes in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On February second, 2013, one such rip occurred. If you are unaware, the second day of the second month is part of a pagan holiday called Imbolc, and is the halfway point between the winter solstice and spring equinox. The holiday begins on the first day of the month, and ends when the sun sets on the next evening. At three in the morning on the second -note the three, like I said, threes are also important numbers- Ethan arrived in our dimension.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma and Paul spoke over each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I thought you said it was time travel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The storm! That was a rip!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander grinned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. To both of you. There are alternate realities that exist side by side along a wrinkle- imagine two nearly identical white squares- but that may not be at the same point in time. So Ethan here was born on July seventh, 1952 in both universes, but our universe was several decades ahead of his. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, when a rip occurred directly in front of him, linking our two squares of the blanket that is the Black and White. Two universes. And he stepped through, and arrived in our own dimension, fifty some odd years ahead of his. So yes, Emma, it was both time travel, and inter dimensional travel. It is just much simpler to call it time travel and be done with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I don’t see how time travel is simple,” Paul said from where he sat on the floor, making Xander bark out a laugh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, it most certainly is not! But it is easier to comprehend than imagining the vastness of the Black and White, and seeing the tiny little speck that is Ethan Green slipping through the fabric, is it not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one answered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ethan? Could you tell us what happened that night?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The teen in question still had tears in his eyes when he started talking. Xander wanted to reach over and wipe them away, but knew his son was still furious with him, and so refrained.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Uh… My older brother, Jimmy, ‘d just died in the war, and Ma was… she wasn’t doin’ well. So she moved us from Chicago to live with her older sister. Us bein’ her, ‘n Henry, ‘n me. Pops ‘d bugged out a bit after Henry was born, so…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a breath and wiped away one of the tears that threatened to fall, disguising it as scratching his hair. Xander doubted any of the others noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was just us. Jimmy ended up workin’ with one of the gangs to help with money, but when he decided to join the Army, and then fuckin’ died, we couldn’t stay in the city. So Aunt Carol offered to let us live with her here in Hatchetfield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We moved in, and Henry was just a kid… fuck. He was nine. And he had so much energy. All the time. And Ma was always at work, and was goin steady this flake, Hidgens, so I had to stay with the kid all the time, and I couldn’t fuckin’ do it. I was fourteen.  Jimmy was always the good one, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>strong</span>
  </em>
  <span> one. Not me. And he was gone. And I couldn’t deal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I left one night, and went to the beach. I didn’t really notice the storm, I just wanted to leave, I think. And then I was in the water. I just wanted to go away and not have to deal with it anymore. But then Henry was there. He must’ve followed me. And he pulled me outta the water, and told me I was silly for tryin’ to swim in the middle of the night in the storm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him he was right. He was my brother. My kid brother, and I was just gonna leave him alone? Like Pops did? Like Jimmy did? Fuck that. That was the smartest thing I ever thought, I think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, you don’t-“ Xander hadn’t meant for him to tell all of this. Just enough for the others to understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan continued as if he hadn’t heard him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were walkin’ back, when there was a fuckin’ loud crack or somethin’ and then in front of us, there was a big glowin’ thing. It kinda...I dunno crackled and pulsed. Like, it looked like a...like a...fuck, Dad, what’s the word for a big, round doorway?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An arch,” Xander supplied easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s the fucker!” Ethan shouted, “Yeah, it was like an arch of lightning. And Henry loved lightning. He was never scared of storms. Always watched right at the window. But he wanted to touch it. And he tried to. But I stopped him, and somehow ended up hittin’ it myself, and then my hand was stuck and I couldn’t pull it off and then it pulled me through and it burned everywhere and I-I-I.  Couldn’t. Breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I couldn’t breathe, and I couldn’t breathe. And then I was. I was breathin’ and my chest hurt, and all I could think was ‘I don’t wanna die, I gotta be there for Henry’. But Henry wasn’t there, and a man was puttin’ a hat on me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were putting a hat on me.” Ethan looked at Paul, who was staring at the boy with wide, too blue eyes. “You told me it was magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know. I-I didn’t know it was, the words just came out. I didn’t know it was magic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked shocked and mildly confused, Hannah was nodding softly, still clutching Ethan’s hand, and his son looked exhausted and sad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander decided to take back over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, the reason John and I didn’t tell you about Henry was because this Henry grew up with his Ethan Green. The Ethan Green of this universe died of a heart attack approximately ten minutes after Paul resuscitated you. From what PEIP can tell, no two same souls can exist in the same dimension together. But your mother married Thomas Hidgens in this universe, and yours and your brother’s counterparts adopted his surname. I know you looked them up after you moved in with John and I. That was why you didn’t find them. That, and you are honestly crap at exploring the internet, Son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were afraid that with your mental health, you would have trouble with the fact that Henry was here, and that he didn’t need you. I still stand by that decision. I know it hurts, but-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna meet him.” Cold determination shone in Ethan’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dude, I don’t think that’s a great idea…” Emma spoke hesitantly. “Like, yeah, I get he’s your brother, but he got infected, and before that, he was… kooky. I mean, he sedated me and tied me to a fucking chair. I dunno how much of that was stress, or what, ‘cuz he’d never been that weird or creepy before, but… like I said- I don’t think that’s the best idea.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan’s shoulders shook as he tried to keep the tears at bay, and that was when Hannah spoke for the first time in minutes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Banana?” He said hollowly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really tired. Can we go home?” She asked, not looking tired at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Kid.” He cracked his neck. “Sorry, folks, but I gotta get Hannah home for bed at…” he looked at his watch, “five in the afternoon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled thinly and gave a small mock salute to the rest of them before Hannah pulled him out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander looked at Emma, who dropped her head into her hands, and at Paul, whose hands were shaking. It had been a long, harrowing day. He could leave them to it. Let them have time to talk what they’d learned over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood and stretched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right, I’ve gotta go back to the lab to test some theories. Paul, I’ll come to collect the hat in the morning.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The infected man nodded slightly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodnight all. Enjoy exploring the depths of knowledge you gained tonight that is known only to a few humans on the planet. Don’t be too afraid. But you should be cautious with it.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And this is officially the longest chapter. 2100 words. Holy Fuck. And y’all get a helluva lot of information in this one. I hope you enjoyed it!! This was my favorite chapter to write</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. A Bad Night part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for self harm and panic attacks</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul had been shirtless, he’d realized, the entire time. His grotesque, twisted body had been on display for everyone to see, and things had happened so quickly that he hadn’t remembered to put one on until shortly after Ethan had begun speaking. But at that point, he couldn’t very well stand up and go put the gray sweatshirt on while the devastated boy was telling his life story. Well, he could. But he wouldn’t. No, he couldn’t. Couldn’t stand up, couldn’t bear to watch as everyone’s head swiveled towards him as he searched for any shred of modesty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second Xander left, though, Paul had scrambled for the bathroom where the shirt had been discarded on the ground. As he went to put it on, though, he realized he had a small problem. The hat. The shirt’s collar wasn’t stretchy enough to maneuver around the wide brim of the cap without the fear of it toppling off. And Paul wouldn’t dare risk that happening with Emma right around the corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, as soon as that thought had popped into his head, she’d rounded the corner. She’d looked at him, arms still in the shirt sleeves, then up at the hat, and had told him to go to a chair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re too damned tall,” she’d said as he sat down, not daring to say a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d held the hat firmly to his head, and helped him stretch the shirt’s neck around it. Once he was dressed, she’d sat down in the chair opposite his, and, for a moment, neither of them said anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, Em,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, I am so fucking sorry,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d spoken at the same time, and in that moment, everything had been okay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Paul lay in his bed, Emma curled up fast asleep beside him. He was exhausted. He still ached everywhere. He was starving. But he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t get himself to fall asleep, despite hours of trying. And the thought of food, of eating anything made him nauseated. And that scared him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tests PEIP had run on him had told him one thing that, despite him not being particularly scientifically gifted, he had understood. He wasn’t human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humans didn’t have blue blood. Humans couldn’t stay awake for over a month. Humans couldn’t live without food or water for that long either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hat was supposed to cure him, wasn’t it? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl, Hannah, had said that when you wore it, you couldn’t be hurt. Well, he was hurting. And he was terrified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because Xander was going to take it away in the morning. Paul understood that they needed to study it to try to help everyone else who had been infected, but… Gods, he didn’t want to lose his humanity. Or whatever it was he had now. When he’d heard the voices earlier, Paul had thought he was a goner. That the Hive had let him go for a little while, just to fuck with him, and then reeled him back in again to be one of Its undead singing puppets. A shudder ran through him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, he trembled. And again, and again. He needed something. Something was missing that was vital and he didn’t know what it was and it hurt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul reached for his hand before remembering Emma had wrapped it up before she’d gone to sleep. If he took off the wrappings, he could give himself friction burns, which had always helped the anxiety before, but then Emma would have done that for him for nothing, and then she’d get mad at him, or would be worried about him, and Paul couldn’t fucking live with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not hands then. Hands were good. Always readily available, easy to access. But not tonight. Tonight...arms. Under the sleeve. It would stick and hurt more when the fabric touched the wound, but he had to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Something, anything to get out of his skin, to make the panic stop, so he could </span>
  <em>
    <span>breathe</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated himself for it. Every single time, he hated himself, but felt a sick satisfaction that he had done something to stop the panic. But he scratched at his arm. It didn’t help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to gulp down air without waking the woman beside him. He couldn’t wake her up, couldn’t wake her, couldn’t-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gasped out a sob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma shifted, curling closer into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t wake up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept scratching.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Right. So I just wanna say that giving yourself friction burns does not help soothe anxiety or panic attacks. It just makes it worse later, so if you do have self harming tendencies, don’t do this. It hurts like a fucker, and it takes forever to heal, and it gets infected really fucking easily. Don’t. Do. It. Please. <br/>Take it from someone whose own hands and arms are covered in scars from doing this exact thing. It isn’t worth it, and it really doesn’t help.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. A Bad Night part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan was staring at the living room wall. Or, more accurately, the large clock on said wall. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tic. Tic. Tic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been staring since seven. It was now two thirty. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tic. Tic. Tic. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Henry had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Had been alive and still in Hatchetfield after five decades. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe he’d be alive again. But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ethan had always watched out for Henry, just like Jimmy had done for him. And Henry was in his sixties, while Ethan was nineteen. And Ethan couldn’t protect his brother from the world anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never been able to. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tic. Tic. Tic.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two forty five.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would never be a good brother. Would never be someone’s protector, or who somebody needed. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He didn’t belong. Not here, not anywhere. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Keep an eye on Henry, will ya? He’s your responsibility when I’m gone.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He had failed. And Jimmy would know that he’d failed, and Ethan would never be able to get his brother’s voice out of his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been seven years since his brother had gone to war, and he still heard him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Six years since Jimmy had died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Five years since he’d left Henry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four years since he’d been adopted by John and Xander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three years since the Incident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two years since he’d met Lex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One year since he’d left his Dads’ house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah’s voice from earlier echoed in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Seven is special,”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan dropped his head into his hands. His eyes burned. When had he last blinked? He couldn’t remember. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>An engine sounded outside, and Ethan quickly hoisted himself onto the couch he’d been sleeping on for the last month and a half, and pulled the blanket up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door unlocked and Xander stepped inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nearly three in the morning, why the hell was Xander getting back so late?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad walked up to where Ethan lay, pretending to be asleep, and stood over him for a minute, before brushing Ethan’s hair off of his forehead, and going upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the bedroom door upstairs shut, Ethan sat up and resumed his position on the floor. He stared at the mantle, with all forty nine clocks on display. All were stopped at 7:14 and twenty one seconds. Only the fiftieth clock, the largest one, that hung on the wall above the fireplace showed the correct time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three in the morning, on the dot. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh look, y’all get another, short, chapter. Hope y’all enjoy</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. A Bad Night part 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hello, John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander didn’t go to the labs that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, instead he went to the holding cells. Or rather, one cell in particular. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking through the one way mirror, Xander exhaled slowly. His husband looked exactly the same as he had on the day he went to fight the hive. Unlike Paul, the only sign that he was infected at all was the fact that his eyes were glowing a soft blue. And of course, the fact that he was seated completely still. John was never still, never not moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had looked in on his husband twice in the last month. Only twice. Maybe it made him a coward. He’d never stayed longer than a few minutes, though. It had hurt too much, seeing John but not seeing </span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the strangest and most alive man Xander had ever met. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now? Now there was hope. At the very least, Xander knew he could get John to wear the hat, which, while not a permanent solution, was infinitely better than this stillness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The only movement was from his mouth as John sang continuously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander didn’t particularly care. He spoke anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I know you can’t really hear me, but I am sorry that I stayed away for so long. It hurts, seeing you like this, and I was afraid that I’d never see </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> again, so I didn’t come. But...I’m here now, John. I’m here. And there might be a way to help you, so you’ll be back, and you can help us, and finally meet Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And Paul. You saved us all, John, when you gave him that watch. Amanda would have killed him if I hadn’t recognized it, and then we would have lost everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander’s voice broke. John was still staring blankly at the glass, singing something Xander couldn’t and didn’t want to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan made it. He saved Hannah, his girlfriend’s little sister, from the Hive, and he made it to the base. You’d be so proud of him, Love, so, so proud. He is such a good big brother to her.  He- he found out about Henry. I don’t know how, but he did. I had never doubted our decision not to tell him, but… he looked so betrayed, so hurt, John, that I feel we could have been wrong. He was looking for you. Well, you and Lex. He got to this hallway the other day. So close, and he didn’t realize it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed off. What else could he say? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you so much, John. Every day, I miss you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat in silence, watching his husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John continued to sing on the other side of the glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what felt like an eternity, and like mere seconds, he rose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Xander said.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The base was empty. No cars drove along the streets, no Peeps walked and joked on the sidewalks. And they hadn’t for over a month. With the base situated on the western half of the island, most Peeps had civilian families who had no idea what their loved ones really did. Everyone had lost someone on the day of the Apotheosis. Some more than others, but everyone had lost. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander’s was the only car on the road as he drove home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was hope. A small hope, but hope nonetheless.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There would still be holes left by the infected caught in the explosion, but in time those could heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he walked inside the house, Xander could see Ethan curled up on the couch. His strong, beautiful, headstrong son. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had broken him more than it had John when Ethan had left. John had always been closer, more connected to Ethan, but Xander… Xander knew he would do anything for the boy. Would wreck himself if it meant helping him.He’d only been their son for four years, and it hadn’t been nearly enough time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the cure worked, a small, wretched part of Xander thought, he might almost be grateful for the Apotheosis, if only because it brought his son back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A line had drawn itself between the sleeping teen’s brows, and a curl of hair had fallen over his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander pushed it back and stared at his son for another moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan’s still gloved hand was trembling slightly where it lay next to his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Odd. He couldn’t remember ever having seen it tremble when Ethan was asleep before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a taxing day, though, so perhaps it was just extra stress.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before stopping in his own room, he popped his head into Etha-Hannah’s room. They’d kept it exactly the same, just in case Ethan ever wanted to return home, but when he finally had, the boy had insisted on Hannah having the room, claiming that he’d slept in far worse conditions than the living room couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had wanted to shake his son’s shoulders, tell him that a nineteen year old shouldn’t have to sleep outside, or in a car, but had known that he could do nothing about it without driving him further away. He couldn’t risk that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah was awake and sitting on the bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah?” He asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...goodnight. It’s a bad night. But tomorrow will come and be good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cryptic. As always. Not as bad as John could be but-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sweetie. Go to sleep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mkay,” she mumbled, already laying down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left her door open a crack and headed down the hall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was a bad night; Hannah was right. It had been a shitty night, but tomorrow would come, and it would be good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’ve decided that I like writing Xander’s perspective. I hope y’all enjoy reading it lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Emma woke up, she knew something was wrong. Knew, because Paul was sitting at the small table. And he was smiling. It wasn’t his smile. It didn’t reach his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting up and feeling the mattress beside her, “The bed’s cold- how long have you been sitting there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let out a humorless laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m always cold, Em. I don’t think me leaving the bed will have made much of a difference in its temperature,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you’ve been up a while?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No-yea-maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” She asked as she walked towards the table. God, her leg was sore, still fucked up from last night. PT later would be a bitch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong? Em, can you tell me what I am?” He asked dully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I? I’m not human. I can tell you that much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, what do you mean, you’re not human? Of course you are.” But a small, cruel part of her brain whispered </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘no he’s not. You’ve seen how his eyes can glow, how his blood runs blue. You slept next to him last night, was he warm? Did his heart beat at a normal pace?’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em. I-I...I haven’t eaten or slept since the night before...before everything. How long ago was that-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please!” He raised a hand to rub the back of his head, “please, Em. You-I… You know. It’s been what? A month? That isn’t normal. </span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> isn’t normal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled back the sleeve of his shirt. Blue blood stuck to the sleeve, and she could see layers of blue tinted flesh beneath. The skin around it was likely his version of inflamed- it was a dark greenish blue. The wound was raw and wet, and had to be extremely painful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh god, Paul,” she breathed, she grabbed his arm, “we gotta wash this before it gets infected-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ripped his arm away, and for the first time since she’d met him, anger sparked in his blue, blue eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Infected? I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span> infected, Em! Look at me! This-“ he waved his arm “-isn’t what a healthy fucking person looks like! I </span>
  <em>
    <span>died</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I was blown up, and it killed me, and now th-this-this-this </span>
  <em>
    <span>thing</span>
  </em>
  <span> is inside me, so the least of my worries is an infection.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, look, I get it. I do. You’ve gotta be feeling a lotta shit right now, and yeah, you died, but you’re alive now, right? You probably feel like trash, cuz, like you said, you haven’t slept in a month.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but Emma cut him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope. I don’t care what you say, or what Xander says, or what that holier than thou kid, Hannah says. You are human, Paul. I see you.” She said, and hoped it didn’t sound awkward….nah, fuck it. Paul was the king of awkward, so he couldn’t judge her on that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em…” he sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I’m right. You're just being angsty because you’re stressed and nervous, which is fine, and understandable, and I know that right now, you’re not gonna want to believe me, and that’s ok. Because deep down, I know you know I’m right.” Emma grabbed his hand gently. “C’mon. Let’s clean that up before Xander gets here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her for a long moment, eyes softening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” was all he said.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Not the best start to the morning, but i swear the day will get better.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. Troublesome Hats and Hive Minds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul was handcuffed to a chair. That was fine. He could handle this. He’d been cuffed before…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was okay. It was okay. Yeah, it was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d be okay. Emma was there, on the other side of the glass. This time it wasn’t one way. He could see them, and they could see him. It was okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander was talking somewhere above him, something about therapy and how he was helping everyone. Paul just stared at Emma. She wasn’t in the room. She would be safe when they took the hat off. He was handcuffed to a chair. It was okay. He couldn’t hurt anybody if he lost control. It was okay. Emma was safe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was okay it was okay it was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander couldn’t take the hat off. It refused to budge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul couldn’t help but feel relieved. It wouldn’t come off. He was okay. He wouldn’t lose himself to the Hive again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt flooded him. The hat was currently the only chance to cure the other infected. He was a coward. He should offer to take the hat off himself. He knew, deep, deep down, that if he tried he could take it off. Coward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s the hold up?” A severe looking woman walked out from behind the glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I’m not sure,” Xander said, scratching his chin. “The hat won’t come off, despite there being nothing holding it down, and it obviously isn’t too tight…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman gave it a light tug. Then a harder one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ow. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul opened his mouth inprotest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Schaff. You’re gonna pop his fucking head off.” Emma. Thank god. “Didn’t Hannah say something about when some people  wear the hat, no one can take it off but them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Holy- yes. Yes she did. Emma could you come take the hat off for us?” Xander said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just- come and take it off please. Paul is cuffed to his chair, and is therefore unable to do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nonono she couldn’t come out from the glass. And take off the hat? No. Nonono. Not gonna work. She’d be too close, he could hurt her-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hat came off. Easily. As if it hadn’t just been completely attached to his fucking head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting,” Xander murmured, “Paul, how do you feel?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How did he feel? He felt…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Hello! Hellooo.     Hi! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Hello!    Good morning, good mooorning!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Welcome back.     We miiiissed you, Paul~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Loud,” he gasped out, “too-too </span>
  <em>
    <span>~many voices in my head~</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Nooo…~</span>
  </em>
  <span> they spoke in unison, their voices thundering, pouring over every crevice of his mind, searching, searching, searching, </span>
  <em>
    <span>~not too many. Nevvver too many voices! We need more. We need more drones. More people. More </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>minds</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. Help us, Paul. We chose you for a reason, you know. You’re specccial. Sssoooo special! We’ll rise again, and we’ll rule the world, but you must help us renew. Help us-~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Please! They~ </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s too loud. Too much.</span>
  <em>
    <span> ~too many!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Paul was crying. He was a grown man crying in front of an audience. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care. His head was too full. Too many voices. So many people were there, in his head, in his </span>
  <em>
    <span>body</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He blinked, and he could see a warehouse full of his family, singing. He blinked again, and he was in a familiar white room, staring at a mirror, but the man in the reflection wasn’t him. Again, and he was somewhere he’d never seen before; a place so breathtakingly beautiful, that words couldn’t describe it, and the only thing he could think of was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Our home. Our </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>mother</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. Isn’t she beautiful? Isn’t she stunning? Don’t you remember? You’ve met her before. She made you whole again. Made you us. Made us you…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked again, and he was back in the room with Xander and the woman.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander was talking, saying something, but Paul couldn’t hear it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul? Who was Paul? Who was-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” A woman, short but beautiful, was squatting in front of him. She wasn’t beautiful the way the mother was, no. She was human. And her soul was old. Very old. But he looked at her. He knew her. Knew the rich brown  eyes…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~no. You do not know her. She is nothing. She is no one. She needs salvation. Save her. Make her us. Make us her.~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” she was saying, and the words made sense again. “Paul, I need you to come back to me, okay? I need you to be here, and I need you to be okay. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed him? To be okay? But his family needed him. So many in his family needed him. Their thoughts and words buzzed under his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~lies. Lies. Pretty words for a pretty girl. She is a liar. A slothful, wretched liar…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~okay~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he found himself saying. He wasn’t sure why, but he looked into her eyes, and he knew her. Had known her all along. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked. And he could see a lush, once green world, filled with fire. A firebringer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinked again, and the woman -</span>
  <em>
    <span>emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>- was back. Emma. He knew her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~okay. Okay~</span>
  </em>
  <span> okay. Ok.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. His name was Paul, and he was a part of the Hive,but he wasn’t, was he?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am thirty one. I am dead. I was born in Hatchetfield, and have never once left the island. My best friend is Bill, and Alice is my goddaughter. My name is Paul Matthews. I work at CCRP. I am thirty one…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Matthews, are you back with us?” Xander. That was Xander.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ye-yes?</span>
  <em>
    <span> ~I</span>
  </em>
  <span>~  I’m here.” He said. What had happened?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh thank god,” Emma nearly sobbed. “You weren’t responding to us for a while, and you fucking scared me. Please, Paul, don’t do that again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t control it, and she knew that. But he nodded anyways.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she said back softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright Paul, now that we have successfully retrieved the hat, we can start running tests, and hopefully develop a cure. Your help has been vital to the cause, and we are all extraordinarily grateful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grateful. For his help? He didn’t do anything but sit there and panic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled tightly, not trusting himself to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Like I said earlier, your new therapist will be here at one o’clock this afternoon. She has experience helping those who have had extraterrestrial or supernatural contact, and who struggle afterwards. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go to the labs to start testing. Colonel, will you come with me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman nodded and followed him out of the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clock on the wall read eleven a.m.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma followed his line of sight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck! I’ve gotta go, Paul. I’ve got physical therapy! I’ll see you in like an hour!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he was alone. Well. Not really alone. He still had the voices in his head, but… no. Paul refused to go near them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was alone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still handcuffed to the chair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brilliant.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. Decisions, Decisions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Xander was conflicted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had the hat. But what the hell did he </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> with it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Did they test it to see what made it work, what secrets it held? Did they risk damaging it before it could be used to potentially save three hundred people? Or did they test it on someone else? Someone who had been infected in a different way than Paul. And if so, who did they test it on? It would have to be a human experiment, but were they really human? They were technically dead, and their bodies were technically piloted by an alien hive mind…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if they could only save one person… it had to be John. It had to be. And not just for his own, personal, motivations. PEIP needed him. The world needed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Xander needed him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s on your mind, Lee?” Amanda. He’d forgotten she was with him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do we decide who to test this on?” He gestured to the hat, “Who are we to decide who potentially gets cured, and who doesn’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She put a hand on his shoulder. “Lee, I won’t lie to you. I have no fucking idea. I’m not particularly great with heart to hearts, and I don’t like making these kinda decisions. That’s John’s department. He’s the heart of PEIP. You're the brain. I’m the mother fucking trigger. Y’all point, and I shoot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked dryly at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Amanda, that doesn’t help.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, I didn’t think it would. But I do say that the organization isn’t what it should be when John ain’t here.” She shrugged. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She really was the trigger.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was built like a small tank- standing next to her, Xander always felt rather...small. Not that he <em>was</em> short, mind, she just had a presence that made anybody she was with feel small. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pointed, she shot...that sounded accurate, actually. PEIP had never really fit the military mold. No one really checked up on them, so they were pretty much left to run themselves however they saw fit, so long as any messes were contained and cleaned up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John was the heart. He was good at dealing with people and whatnot. He was good at making these types of decisions based on Xander’s knowledge.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, PEIP wasn’t what it should be when John was not there. The whole organization was on standby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander felt this was a potential breach in protocol. To possibly save a soldier over a civilian? Never. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But PEIP was different, governed under different rules. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They needed John. They needed his heart, and his connection to the Black and White. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander whispered, “John. We give it to John.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amanda nodded, as if she had known he would choose his husband the whole time. Did that make him a horrible person? He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But what Xander did know was that he would ruin himself, make himself a horrible person, if it meant his family was alive and healthy and whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps he’ll have some insight into the hat’s powers?” Amanda suggested, heading towards John’s holding cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t know. We’ve had this hat under our noses for five years, and have never noticed anything strange about it…” he ran a hand down his face, “Although… perhaps it helped us recognize Ethan as one? I’m not sure. I suspect that we have found our answer as to why he retained his memories of his past life, when the other two we found lost theirs shortly after crossing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If Paul put the hat on Ethan immediately after resuscitating him, then perhaps whatever healing properties it holds kept his memories intact.” He mused as he kept pace with his friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, Lee. This is your area of expertise, not mine, sorry.” She shrugged. “How’s Kelly doing? Haven’t seen her as much recently.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he stressed her name. He wasn’t entirely sure why Amanda still called her that, despite the fact that the entire undercover bit had been scrapped, “ is struggling. I offered Fran’s therapy sessions, but she refused, claiming that she’d been given a therapist before, and that had been the last straw before she’d run away to Guatemala. She wants to leave, and is going stir crazy, but she feels completely responsible for Paul’s welfare, and refuses to accept base accommodation. She said that she would leave the research facility with Paul, or not at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Strong girly,” Amanda murmured. “She’d make a fine peep.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not with that leg of hers. Even <em>we</em> couldn’t clear her, not with an injury like that.” Xander replied. Emma would have made a fine member of PIEP. She was intelligent, despite not having completed her schooling, and she had a connection to the Black and White, as well as…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Too bad. She’s got spunk. I like her.” She said, as they turned into the last hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Indeed she has. Are you ready?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes. No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had to remind himself that the worst that could happen was that nothing would happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That wasn’t necessarily true, but if he thought about everything that </span>
  <em>
    <span>could</span>
  </em>
  <span> go wrong, his brain would explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He settled for a nod of affirmation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She unlocked the door, and there was John. Still completely still, as he had been the night before, still singing nonsense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now Xander was in the room with him. He wasn’t alone anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, so achingly slowly, Xander crept towards his husband. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could smell his distinct scent, and despite it having been over a month since John had last showered, it was exactly as Xander remembered it. Black coffee and mint and cigarette smoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The infection must have paused all of the body’s functions, Xander thought in the back of his mind. Paul had been the same way, his face still clean shaven and hair short despite the nearly two months it had been since the apotheosis had struck Hatchetfield.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Interesting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John didn’t react at all to his presence, and Xander’s chest ached as he slowly put the hat on his husband’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And waited.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry about there not being an update yesterday. I genuinely don’t have an excuse other than that it was an odd day, and I couldn’t formulate complex enough thoughts to write. But I’m back with a slightly longer than usual chapter for y’all. Hope you enjoyed.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. Grocery Shopping</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan and Hannah were grocery shopping at the commissary. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hated the commissary. Everything was perfectly organized, and the floor was white, and the ceiling was white, and the shelves were white, and then the food was all too fucking bright and colorful. And it always smelled like bleach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah, on the other hand,  seemed to have no troubles. She was the happiest Ethan had seen her in a long while, and was skipping down the aisles. Was that the right word? Aisles. Aisles? He wasn’t sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah fuck it,” he said out loud. Hannah stopped skipping and looked him dead in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a bad word. Today is a good day, so no bad words allowed.” She said, and shook her head to emphasize her point. Her braids whipped back and forth as she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, c’mon. Fuck ain’t a bad word, Banana,” he grinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just stared at him, eyebrows raised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s a curse word. But it ain’t a bad one. It’s the most good word there is! You can use it to say anything. Like, I can’t remember what we’re lookin’ for in this row. So, I could say ‘what the fuck are we lookin’ for?’. It’s a good day, so I can use a good fuckin’ word if I want.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes and smiled back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah’d been tellin’ him it was a good day since she’d woken him up by crawling onto the couch next to him and whispered it into his ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d jumped far more than he’d admit to anyone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she wouldn’t tell him why, which was annoying the shit outta him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Apparently Webby wasn’t an imaginary friend, like he and Lex had thought, but an actual fucking Eldritch monster. He didn’t like that. That one of the fuckers was watching her all the time? He couldn’t protect her, couldn’t help Hannah if Webby decided she didn’t wanna play nice any more. And the spider seemed om...all knowing, so there was no beating her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But for now, Webby had told Hannah it was a good day, but wouldn’t explain why. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to bash his head into the nearest shelf. He didn’t like surprises- past experiences had taught him that they were usually foul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t ya go pick out a cereal you want?” He asked, squinting at the list. Context-wise, it had to say cereal, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. He’d never been good at readin’, but then after he’d gotten shocked by the portal, his mind wandered more than it ever had before, and he had even more trouble with it. So he usually didn’t. But Xander had printed the list in the neatest handwriting Ethan had ever seen, so he’d had to figure it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah nodded and bounded off to the cereal aisle. Aisle...it had to be aisle. Ethan rubbed the back of his head. Aisle aisle aisle. It didn’t even sound like a real word anymore. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at the list again. Soup. Great. He pushed the cart over and scanned the cans. Tomato or Italian wedding…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone rang. Gods fuckin’ damn it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why couldn’t he have one day, just one </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuckin’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>day where Xander didn’t butt his head into his business?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He snapped into his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Ethan, how are you?” Xander said calmly, either ignorant to or unwilling to accept Ethan’s frustration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” Ethan ground out. “At the fucking commissary.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Language.” Xander said mildly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck off. I already got that shit from Hannah. I don’t need you buggin’ me ‘bout it too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, fine. I understand,” his dad sounded like he was smiling. Weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’d ya need? I gotta go check out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was just calling to ask that, once you drop off the groceries, you come to the research building. I found something I want you to see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Fuck that fucking building. Nothing good ever happened when he was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Be there in-“ he glanced at his watch “-uh...about thirty minutes? D’ya want Banana there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She can come if she would like to.” Was the only reply before the line went silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alrighty then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah- Webby- had to be wrong. Today wasn’t gonna be a good day. It would be a shitty, shitty one. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. Reunion</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Xander was waiting for them when Ethan and Hannah arrived at the research facility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Ethan, Hannah,” Xander smiled broadly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah bounded over to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you it would be a good day! We were right, right?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right, sweetie. It is a wonderful day. Let’s go inside, ok? That way you can see precisely how wonderful it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He guided Hannah in, leaving Ethan to follow after them. Fine. That was fine. The kid deserved some parental affection after having to live with her piece of shit mom for nine years. Lexi tried to help, but since their mom was constantly in a drunken haze, recently Lex’d had to take on even more hours at Toy Zone just to make sure Hannah got fed. Ethan himself had been working at the only auto shop on the island since he’d been sixteen, but that didn’t pay well enough to keep all three of them fed. Together, he and Lexi had been saving up to get them all out of Hatchetfield, but it was slow going.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan sometimes regretted leaving John and Xander’s home so early. They’d told him over and over again that he was their son and welcome to stay for however long he wanted or needed, but he couldn’t do it. He’d felt so fucking guilty, intruding in their home for four years, disrupting their lives, costing them money- not that they’d ever complained or brought it up, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ethan owed them. Owed them everything he had, except Jimmy’s jacket. They’d taken him in rather than putting him into the foster care system, they’d bought him more clothes than he’d felt he’d ever need, and had taught him how to cook- like really cook. Not the shit his ma had taught him. But they’d given him so much of their time, helping with nightmares and reading. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So the debt grew. And it grew and grew until he couldn’t fucking handle owing them anymore, and he’d left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And here he was, sleeping on their couch. Yeah, there were special circumstances, but he’d still brought a nine year old to their house, and it was pretty much like, ‘here, I know we haven’t spoken in two years, but me and my dead girlfriend’s sister need a place to stay, and you are the only people I can trust. So I’m just going to keep on owing you my whole fuckin’ life, ‘cuz I can’t take care of a single fuckin’ kid, and need ya to do it for me.’</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And of course, they’d let them in with welcome arms, the bastards.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But now Ethan recognized the hallway they were at. It was the one Paul had been kept in when he’d found him only two days ago. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s goin’ on Xander?” He asked as they passed door after door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad didn’t say anything until they reached the final room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grasping the knob, he said, “Your father wanted to see you, Ethan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there, sitting in a chair, with Paul’s hat on his head, was a grinning John MacNamara.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know y’all got two short chapters today- I probably just should have waited and posted them together, but oh well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. Old Acquainances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma knew Paul’s new therapist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d come back from PT to find Paul sitting alone in his room, still handcuffed to his chair. She hadn’t had the key, and had no idea where Xander or Schaffer had gone, so she’d just pulled a chair up next to him and chatted with him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>At </span>
  </em>
  <span>him would probably have been more accurate, since he refused to open his mouth to say anything back to her, and would just nod or smile absently every now and then. She’d told him about growing up in Jane’s shadow, and about hiking for nearly ten years through Guatemala, and all of the other places she wanted to travel to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y’know,” she said, “The offer still stands. When you’re cleared to leave, you’re welcome to come with when I go to Colorado. Like, I know we’ve only really known each other for a bit, but uh… yeah. The offer stands.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her and smiled sadly, simply saying, “Can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And why the fuck not?” She demanded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not going t-to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>~cleared, Emmaaa~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he shook his head. “ I‘m sorry…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course you are. PEIP’s working on a cure now, with your hat, right? So as soon as they finish, they have to let you go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe she was being really optimistic, but her whole life, Emma had been a pessimist, and maybe it was the fact that she’d survived the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>apocalypse</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but she figured maybe it was time for a little optimism in her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That is, until there was a knock at the door, and Paul’s new therapist walked inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You,” Emma breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older woman balked when she saw Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Perkins! I...I wasn’t expecting to see you here. Doctor Lee said nothing of…” she recovered herself.  “Hello, Emma. It’s lovely to see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doctor Frances Belwether. Her therapist after the boating accident. Holy fuck. Holy </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma hadn’t thought about the redhead in years. Not since she’d moved to Guatemala. Fuck fuck fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know </span>
  <em>
    <span>~one another~</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Paul asked, watching Emma concernedly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did,” Emma responded quietly, not fully taking her eyes off the woman.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Belwether had helped her when she couldn’t remember her own name after she’d fallen off her aunt’s boat and hit her head. She’d lost everything, but Belwether hadn’t given up on her, and eventually Emma had made a mostly full recovery. But then the woman had started pushing her, just as badly as her parents had, and Emma’d had no real way to cope since Jane had moved out, and she’d had no one to talk to, so she’d just… left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“While it really is delightful to see you again, I do have an appointment with Paul, here. I would love to have a sit down with you, though, Emma dear. It’s been what? Ten? Twelve years?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thirteen.” Emma said, still slightly stunned. “Uh, yeah. Uh...I- I’ll see you later, Paul. I’ll be back later, ‘kay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” He replied, still looking worried.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma sidestepped Belwether and left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander. She had to find and talk to Xander. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he’d said that the therapist coming in was a specialist for people who had dealt with the supernatural and extraterrestrial.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> And as far as she knew, Emma had never experienced anything of the sort until two months ago.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I made up Frances Belwether, if you couldn’t tell. She won’t Directly be playing a huge part in the story, but she will be there for some parts. I’m sorry if you don’t like oc’s in fanfiction- I usually don’t but since we don’t know of any therapists in Hatchetfield, and no one we’ve met has seemed sane enough, I had to make one. <br/>Also, sorry this chapter is so short. It’s only five hundred words, but I needed a filler chapter with Emma’s perspective since the next few will be larger and not really featuring her too much.<br/>As always, I hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. A Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Hello, Paul. My name is Doctor Frances Belwether. I’m an extraterrestrial psychology specialist. Doctor Lee asked me to have a few sessions with you. He told me that your case was slightly different from most of my others, but not how so. Could you please specify what precisely your encounter entailed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman looked pleasant enough. Older, with red hair just beginning to silver, and cool green eyes, but… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma had looked like she’d seen a ghost when the woman had walked in. She’d looked terrified of a seemingly harmless woman. From what he knew and had seen from Emma, she wasn’t the type to scare easily. But this woman had terrified her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Why? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Awful, slothful girly… not helpful to the hive… not helpful. Insolent, ignorant girl…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut </span>
  <em>
    <span>~uuup~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he ground out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” Doctor Belwether sat in Emma’s vacated seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul shook his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...N-not you. Them. S</span>
  <em>
    <span>~so~</span>
  </em>
  <span>sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took a notebook out of a bag he hadn’t noticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to apologize, Mr. Matthews. Could you tell me who ‘they’ are?” She asked calmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hive,” was all he said. He could feel the song aching in the back of his throat, trying to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Like a beehive?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He really didn’t want to talk to this woman. She’d made Emma uncomfortable and scared and-</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~poor Emma Perkinssss… you love her, don’t you? That slothful girl, that wretched bitch. You could make her betterrrr. Make her us. Make us her. Make her better than she ever was before….~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope. Nope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could feel them pressing against his brain, demanding that he give in, that he join them, that he just </span>
  <em>
    <span>let it out</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope nope nope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul wouldn’t admit it, but Emma’s offer was tempting. So, so tempting.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~poor Paul Matthewsssss… so hopeful and tempted… you </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>want</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> her, don’t you? Yessss. We see. We hear. We know all. We know what you want, now~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He wanted to go with her to that farm in Colorado. He’d never wanted to leave Hatchetfield before, but now he could feel a burning excitement at the prospect of traveling, of seeing the world, with Emma. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~it would be oh so eeeaaasy, Paul. Just a weeeee bit of your vomit could save her. She would be yours. Would be perfect and devoted. She was meant to be yours. Meant to be </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>ours</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? Are you alright?” The doctor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d genuinely forgotten where he was, and that she was there with him. Paul had been so deep in his mind, that he’d completely faded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ yes I’m okay, okay. Okay okay~</span>
  </em>
  <span> not alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was looking at her, curiosity plain in her jade eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What just happened, Mr. Matthews?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to talk to her. Couldn’t talk to her. She wouldn’t understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~she would if you saved herrrr~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. Nope. Not going to happen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mr. Matthews?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck! Paul gripped the armrest. What did he do? He wished Emma was there. She’d know what he should do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no he didn’t want Emma there. This wasn’t her responsibility. He was a grown man who could make his own decisions, even if they did make his stomach flip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...ah...W</span>
  <em>
    <span>~what do you know?~</span>
  </em>
  <span> a-about me. About what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do this. He could talk to her. Xander trusted her. She worked with PEIP and PEIP was good and trying to help people. He could try to trust her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was merely told of a catastrophic case of mass hysteria caused by extraterrestrial forces, that resulted in the loss of some three thousand lives. Of the four survivors, two were trapped on the island a whole day before PEIP was able to recover them. You were one of those two survivors, is that correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul laughed. He couldn’t help it. It just...bubbled up out of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I didn’t survive. I did ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>more than surviiive~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Belwether scribbled something into her notebook, then looked up and said, “Oh? And yet here you are, sitting with me. I would call that survival, Mr. Matthews.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sure. Sure, he was sitting there, but he wasn’t exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>alive</span>
  </em>
  <span> was he.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you tell me what happened that day?” She asked, cocking her head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure. Fuck it. Why not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m a </span>
  <em>
    <span>~guy who didn’t like musicals…~”</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. Nothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><span>John was alive. John was</span> <em><span>alive</span></em><span>. </span></p><p>
  <span>It was his father’s eyes that had convinced Ethan that he was no longer a member of the hive. Dark blue, not the horrible glowy color Lex and Paul’d had. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck...you fuckin’ did it. It worked! Holy fuck!” Ethan grabbed Xander’s hand. “Dad, you- you did it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> did it, Ethan. We did it,” Xander said, smiling at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty sure I didn’t fuckin’ help, but I don’t really care right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John stood shakily and beckoned Ethan in for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nearly collapsed into his father’s arms. Fuck, he had missed John. Had missed him since Ethan had first left, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not quite, son.” John held him at arm’s length and rasped, “You didn’t check me for weapons first. Have you forgotten all our training?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan felt tears well up in his eyes as he nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I fuckin’ did. I forget everything.” Old words. Words he’d been saying in response to that question for years, ever since John had first started training him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>‘Never make contact without first assessing the threat they pose. Check for weapons or anything that could potentially be used as a weapon.’</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He hugged John, hard. John had a tight, comforting hug, and Ethan couldn’t help but compare it to Xander’s. Xander hugged like whoever received it would break, as if even the slightest bit of pressure would fracture them into a million pieces. His hugs always set Ethan’s nerves on edge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good kid. Xany here was telling me how you saved Alexandra’s younger sister. And how you saved me with this hat. Impressive. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heroic</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” John clapped him on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan pulled away and shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It wasn’t heroic, Dad. I-it-she…. I had to get Banana outta there. And you? I didn’t save ya. The hat’s Paul’s.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul,” his father dragged the name out, “Matthews? Good man. Strong man, heroic, even. But he didn’t save me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan opened his mouth to object.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah- ah. No. You found him, correct? Correct. You returned his hat, correct? Correct. He wore the hat and was suddenly hive free, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, ye-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Correct! Had you not found Paul, and had you not returned the hat to him, Xander could never have been able to deduce that this hat was connected to the Black and White in such a way that it allows the wearer to be virtually immune to the Seven’s vices! And healing, gods know what good could come from a discovery such as this!” John’s hands were flying as he spoke, as if he could draw out every thought from his head into thin air for the world to see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think it was under PEIP’s nose for who knows how long, and then practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoved</span>
  </em>
  <span> up our nose for another five years? The gods have been smiling on us! Yes they have. They have been smiling on </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Ethan.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pointed a finger barely a centimeter from Ethan’s nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure they have, Dad.” He brushed his hand away. “I mean I’m in the wrong fuckin’ universe, ya know. My family is dea- wait. Wait wait wait! Fuck! Oh fuck! Henry! He- the hat- we- </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Ethan forced himself to stop and try to order his thoughts enough to be able to speak, “He can be cured! We can fix him, and I’ll get to meet him!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dads didn’t share his enthusiasm. They just looked at each other and frowned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” He asked. Why wouldn’t they be excited? They could save </span>
  <em>
    <span>everybody</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan,” John said, “I haven’t taken the hat off yet. We don’t know how permanent of a cure it is. I-I just wanted to be able to say goodbye in case it doesn’t work, and the apotheosis takes back over. I love you, Son.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait what? No, no, It’s gotta be permanent!” He thought of Paul, and how he’d reverted after he’d taken the hat off. “Fuck, Dad. It’s gotta be permanent. It was supposed to be a good day. Hannah said that’s what Webby said, and if Webby is one of those space fuckers, then she’s gotta be right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander came up behind him and pulled him a step away from John. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. That is precisely my thought process. But Ethan, we still have to check. We have to make sure it really works, and the only way to do that is to test if it can be taken off of John without him reverting back to the hive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan understood. He really did. But… he’d lost nearly everyone he loved. And to have John back, only to find out that he was just saying ‘love you, now I’m gonna bug out of your life. Byeee’? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He strained under Xander’s grip, but his dad was too strong. Too strong, and Ethan couldn’t do shit as he watched John reach up and remove the hat from his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing happened. John gingerly placed the hat onto the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hannah had been right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Today </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good day. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Y’all... y’all have no idea how many times I killed John. I’ve discovered that I absolutely /abhor/ writing General John McNamara. Like, I rewrote this chapter four times in two days, because I couldn’t. Fucking. Write him. I just kept killing him because I didn’t want to. <br/>But I like him, and I figured Ethan’s been through enough shit, he doesn’t need to lose his dad....again. So tada. Y’all get John.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. Secrets and Lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma wasn’t entirely sure where she was. Scratch that. She didn’t know where she was. She was lost. In a building. A building she didn’t know the location of. She could be in fucking Canada for all she knew, but that was fine. What wasn’t fine was that she didn’t know where Xander was. She needed to talk to him. She needed to know why an extraterrestrial specialist had been her childhood (teenhood? Was that a word?) therapist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was odd, wasn’t it? It had to be. Like, it couldn’t just be a coincidence that her therapist worked with people who experienced fucked up alien shit, only for Emma to have survived the singing alien apocalypse and now her old therapist was her alien boyfriend’s therapist and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Woah. Boyfriend? Nope. She looked down the long hallway. Eight doors on each side, all shut. Great. She started pulling on doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was most certainly not her boyfriend. For one, they barely knew each other. The two of them had survived the potential end of the world together. Well. She had survived the potential end of the world with him. But that was besides the point. They didn’t know each other. Also, he was an alien? Dead? A zombie? Ew. No. Emma was not one of those girls from teen books who fell in love with the supernatural hot guy. Absolutely fucking not. She had at least a shred of integrity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Locked. Locked. Locked. No sounds came from behind the doors. No signs of Xander. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck! Where was the dude when she needed him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned left. Great. Another long ass hallway. Her leg already ached. She tried each door. Maybe this wasn’t the smartest idea...running around trying random doors in a military building… nah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But back to what she’d been thinking. She felt comfortable with Paul. Like she could tell him anything and he wouldn’t judge her. And visa versa. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And where the everliving </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> was Xander?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She reached the end of the hallway. Dead end. Fuck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door next to her opened, and there was Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God damn it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Firebringer!” The little snot chirped brightly. “Today is a good day!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma snorted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it? Is it really? ‘Cuz I’ve been wandering for like a fucking eternity- wait. You're a kid, I gotta watch my mouth around you fucking bastards. Nah. I don’t really care enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah had the audacity, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>sheer </span>
  </em>
  <span>fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>audacity</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to smile at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s okay! Lexi and Ethan and my mom say bad words. But today’s a good day, so you don’t have to! You should use good words on good days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma rubbed her eyes. What the hell was this kid on? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Sure. Good words for good days. You’re fucking nutty, kid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know! People say it’s because my mom dropped me on my head when I was a baby, but Lexi says I’m just creative. Webby says I’m special.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Emma could see that. Hannah was fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That was probably mean. The kid was like nine. Most nine year olds were fucking weird. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that Emma had much experience with nine year old children. Except Tim. Tim…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opened again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey Banana, who’re ya talkin’ to?” Ethan. Great. He’d know where Xander was. “Emma? What-why- what the fuck are you doin’ here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah moved to stand next to him, still smiling vaguely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, fuck you? I’m looking for your dad. Have you seen him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He grinned. “Which one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which one? I got two dads. Which one are ya lookin’ for?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and leaned against the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma glared at him. “Which one do you think. The one who isn’t a singing zombie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan smirked. “Ah. Right. So, uh...which one d’ya wanna see?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She threw her hands in the air. This kid was infuriating. Hannah’s smile broadened. Both kids were infuriating. All kids were infuriating, actually. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want to see Xande-“ Ethan’s words hit her then. “Wait, John is...he’s?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’. “Perfectly fine. Paul’s hat worked. Somethin’ about it not changin’ his biology? I dunno. But yeah, they’re both in there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy shit. It had worked. The hat really had worked, and that explained why Hannah was smiling so broadly she looked like she’d burst. Emma felt her own lips twitch. Holy shit, they had done it! Hatchetfield could be cured!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god! That- that’s awesome!” She said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah!” He agreed, “Hold on one second, and I’ll get Xander out her for ya.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He and Hannah retreated into the room, and before the door closed, she could just make out a head of gold hair. That must be him, John McNamara. Xander had told her about him, and she was excited to finally meet him- she couldn’t count their brief run-in before the helicopter incident. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then Xander was there, smiling more than she’d seen before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello, Emma. Ethan and Hannah mentioned you’ve been looking for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right. She’d nearly forgotten why she’d come looking for him. Fucking kids.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah. Hi. Yeah, I was actually. Uh, first though, congratulations! For curing John. That’s awesome, Xander,” smooth, she was so incredibly smooth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander, thankfully, didn’t comment on her stammered greeting, just kept smiling as he raised a brow, signaling her to continue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I wanted to talk to you about Doctor Belwether. Uh… she’s Paul’s new therapist, right?” He nodded. “Yeah. So I’ve got a quick question. Has she always been a- what was it… extraterrestrial and supernatural specialist… therapist… thing?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was always a possibility that she’d become a weird sci-fi therapist </span>
  <em>
    <span>after</span>
  </em>
  <span> she’d treated Emma. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, yes, actually,” Xander said. “Doctor Belwether is a psychologist and extraterrestrial psychology specialist. She and I have worked closely for years. She was actually the one who first recommended me to PEIP. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had told her that he’d been hand selected before he’d graduated college to join the secret military group. He’d been only twenty two then, he’d informed her proudly. The youngest person to be invited to work for the organization since its founding. Although Emma suspected that might change soon with Hannah… but that was besides the point. Belwether had been working here already when Xander had joined. So she had already been a specialist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” she drew the word out, “so if she deals with people who make contact with aliens and shit, why was she </span>
  <em>
    <span>my</span>
  </em>
  <span> therapist?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander froze. Completely froze. Then shook his head slightly and knitted his brows in confusion.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah...I’m sorry. What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma frowned. “Doctor Belwether was my therapist for like three years. My cousin Linda pushed me off her parent’s yacht when I was a kid. I hit my head on the rocks and had like, complete amnesia. Belwether helped me remember almost everything. But it wasn’t aliens. It was just my cousin being a bitch. It wasn’t like she knew that I wouldn’t just fall into the water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander’s mouth was open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> you,” he murmured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to snap back into himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er, nothing, Emma. Nothing at all. I’m just a tad… overwhelmed, what with everything that’s happened in the past few days. Haven’t slept much. Probably should do more of that, seeing’s as how I am in charge of many dangerous things here, and people could get hurt…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was babbling. Xander, composed and brilliant Xander, was babbling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, Xander? You wanna answer my question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squinted. “What question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma huffed in exasperation and threw her arms out. “Why was she my therapist?” She exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh. Yes. Yes, that. Er, well, you see. Frances- Doctor Belwether, that is… she sometimes does regular therapy sessions. And Hatchetfield is so close by, and if your parents were wealthy and looking for a good therapist for you, then she would have had no issue with the fact that it wasn’t related...to...aliens.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She raised her eyebrows at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Well, I was new here at the time. You were sixteen then, so I would have just been here for… about two years? We weren’t terribly close at the time. So it is highly likely that that is the case, and that your parents were just willing to pay her high fees.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma smiled, even though her heart was racing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course. That makes sense! I don’t know why I didn’t think of that in the first place. Haha! Silly me. You know, I should probably go and get back to Paul. Uh... if you could give me directions back?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander sighed and smiled with relief. “Of course. Down two levels, take a left when you exit the elevator, then it will be the third door on the left.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great. Thank you so much, I’m sorry for bothering you. And congrats again about the cure, and John.” She smiled again at him, then turned and started walking away. She could feel his eyes on her until she turned the corner at the end of the hallway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had lied to her. Had lied directly to her face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had never told him how old she had been when she fell off the boat.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this is late. I’d planned on finishing this chapter last night, but then the painting fairy came and I ended up painting for like six hours straight in the middle of the night. This one is longer than usual to make up for the lack of regular postings the last few days. Hope y’all enjoyed! If you have any theories or questions, please feel free to comment them down below!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. Storytelling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>He had told her everything. Well, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>everything. But Paul had told Dr. Belwether about the musical apocalypse, and how he and Emma had gotten out. He told her about the Flash Mob o’ Death, and the coffee at Beanies, and about Professor Hidgens, and General McNamara. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he didn’t tell her about was Emma. He told her as vaguely as he could how she joined the group, and why, and gave the doctor only the barest details. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was probably harmless, and she certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked</span>
  </em>
  <span> harmless, but something just felt… off. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~unimportant distraction. Ignore her. Close your eyes, we’re still beside you. We could save her, make her useful, not a distraction, not a loser any more…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t really said anything, just sort of “mhm”ed and “aha”ed at various points of his story. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had been so utterly relieved that she hadn’t commented when he slipped into a song. He couldn’t help it… it felt right, natural. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~here’s where you belong...just sing a song...it is natural, is it not? Is it not delightful? Is it not delicious? Is it not de-lovely? Stay with meee, stay with ussss. There’s another national anthem, Paul, if you want to hear, in your own mind, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>our</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> mind~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>She also hadn’t commented when he lapsed into silence when the voices of his family got too loud for him to think for himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when he’d finished his tale, all she’d said was, “interesting. Very interesting. You’re having difficulties thinking straight, are you not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Paul nodded, she’d smiled and told him, “Our session for the day is over, I’ll be back in three days. What I want you to do in the interim is write. I don’t care what it is, as long as you have written something by the beginning of our next session.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, she’d stood up and left. Just left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he was alone. Alone in the room, but not in his head, and he wasn’t going to willingly go near that fucked up tangle of webs. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~but we’re you, didn’t you know? Weeee are you. We are invisible, like a magic trick...but we are there, and you are here.~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Absolutely fucking not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about his assignment. Write. Write what? She’d said anything, but what if he wrote the wrong thing, what if she really wanted something in particular, and he didn’t do that? He hadn’t written anything in years, and had never been particularly great at it, only mediocre at best. Paul had always been better at maths and sciences than English. He’d enjoyed Shakespeare, though, maybe he could-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Not a play. He absolutely refused to entertain the idea of even attempting to write a play. That was the hive. Not him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~join us! Write the music of the night~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Nope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Shakespeare hadn’t only written plays, had he? He had sonnets. Poems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul liked poems. They had structure, rigidity. You had to keep the pattern. He could write a poem. Maybe not a sonnet- he couldn’t remember that pattern, but...maybe another type?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had no paper or writing implement, and he was still handcuffed to the chair. Paul couldn’t write yet, but maybe when Emma came back? Maybe she could get Xander to help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It’s short, I know. I’m sorry. But, hidden in this wee chapter, there are eight musical theatre references (not counting TGWDLM, obviously), and I’ve decided to take a leaf out of Zeef’s book. For the first three people who can tell me what song and what show each reference is from, I’ll write a Hatchetfield one shot of your choosing(no smut, sorry). Any pairing or situation other than pure smut is welcome. Just send me an email at<br/>ssslytherlynn@gmail.com<br/>To tell me each reference and what one shot you’d like.<br/>I can’t wait to hear from y’all!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. Worry</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Shit. Shit shit shit shit </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Xander rubbed at his face. Emma was suspicious, and rightly so. He had had his own suspicions , but he hadn’t been certain until she’d confronted him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d only just started working with PEIP when the call had come in, there had been an accident just off the pier, and they’d been monitoring the weather patterns, so PEIP had been hyper aware of any strange emergency calls. John and Xander’s mentor, Wilbur Cross, had been in charge of bringing the girl in, and he had brought John in on the case, but Xander had been left to monitor and watch in case of any other strange phenomena. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered that the weather had been particularly odd, and the energy levels had been literally off the charts in the days leading up to it…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” John asked from where he had been talking with Hannah and Ethan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins is what’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John frowned. “Perkins? Emma Perkins...Emma- fuck!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander huffed a laugh. “Fuck indeed. It seems we made a slight error, and by we, I mean me. I assigned Fran to help Paul adjust to his...situation, but-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan, Hannah, could we have some privacy, please?” John interjected, motioning the two kids out of the room. “Go on.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander ran a hand down his face. “I- I never read Emma’s file. I was, at first, but then we were distracted, Amanda and I. We had to corral all of the infected into the warehouses, and make sure they couldn’t escape, and we were running at less than optimal capacity, and- and the file slipped my mind. If I had read it, I would have realized that Fran had been Emma’s therapist for years after the incident. Which wouldn’t have mattered if I hadn’t let it slip that she was a specialist in extraterrestrial psychology. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma’s a smart woman. She put two and two together and confronted me in the hall just now. I told her it was likely just a coincidence, but I don’t know if she believed me, and if I am remembering her case correctly-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I am, which means that, should she find out what truly happened that day, the knowledge of it would likely break her. John, I-I </span>
  <em>
    <span>like </span>
  </em>
  <span>Emma. She is a good woman, and if her leg weren’t so damaged, she would have made a fine peep. I do </span>
</p><p>
  <span>not like lying to her.” Xander confessed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>John crossed the short distance between them and wrapped Xander into his arms. Damn, Xander had missed this. Had missed John, and the safety and love he radiated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Xander, listen to me,” John said, “You are a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> person. Lying to Emma does not make you any less of a good person. You are doing what is right for PEIP, for her, and potentially the world. You are your best self, Xander Lee. I swear it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You said Paul is struggling. There is no one in the world better equipped for helping him than our Frances. Paul and Emma are friends, maybe something more. There is no way we could have kept Fran’s identity a secret between them if they are anything like the two of us. You did the</span>
  <em>
    <span> right thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he had. Maybe he hadn’t. Xander didn’t know. But they couldn’t change anything now, so they had to play the hand they’d been dealt. Fine. He, John, and Amanda had gotten through worse scrapes than this in the past. They’d figure it out. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey! There are still two possible winners for my challenge last chapter. Y’all can use any outside help you want, too.<br/> As always, I hope you enjoyed this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. Hallway Confessions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan had decided that it was time he talked to Paul. The man who’d saved him. Who’d saved John, despite his father’s claims otherwise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah, would ya be okay if we dropped ya off with Amanda? Just for a bit?” He asked. Amanda had taken an instant liking to the girl, and when Ethan and Xander were both out, either running errands or working, she’d offered to watch Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, but her brow was… fuck. F...furloughed? That wasn’t right. Furrowed? Maybe? He didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan stopped walking and crouched in front of Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s shakin’ Banana? Ya said it’d be a good day, and you’re right. We got the cure!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head slightly. “It </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a good day,” she said, “but Eth? I...I want Lexi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss her. And now we have the cure, she could be here, now, but I know why she can’t, but I still </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> her, and it’s stupid!” Her dark brown eyes were watery when she looked up at him. “I want Lexi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course she did. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> she did. Lex had practically raised her after that lawyer bastard left their ma. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere,” Ethan said, motioning for her to step in closer, “D’ya want a hug?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure? It’s ok if ya don’t, but the offer’s there if ya want it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head, then nodded slightly. Aha. This routine. Ethan knew this one. He’d done it himself often enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah was hurting, and she desperately wanted Lex. But she felt guilty for hurting, because she knew others were hurting more than her, so she was punishing herself by not taking the comfort he offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or maybe he was reading too much into it, and she just didn’t know if she wanted a fucking hug or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, kids were complicated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed. “Look, Hannah. I know I’m not Lex. I know that ya miss her. It ain’t stupid, Banana. I miss her, too. But we gotta wait. I don’t know what order they’re gonna bring people back in, but we’ll be there when it’s her turn, ‘kay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mkay…” she mumbled, then smiled thinly and threw her arms around his neck. “Sorry, Eth. You’re right. She’ll be here soon. ”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scooped her up and said, “You don’t gotta be sorry for nothin’. Absolutely nothin’, ya hear? Ya still okay to hang with Amanda, or d’ya wanna go home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She slipped the end of one of her braids in her mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you going?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit that. It’s gross.” He waited until she spat out the hair before answering. “I was gonna go talk to Paul, and prob’ly Emma, too, but I can go tomorrow. It’s up to you. It’d be no...fucking hell what’s the word?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Problem?” Hannah supplied easily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not what I had at first, but yeah. It’d be no problem if ya’d rather go home. We can make somethin’ for dessert to celebrate John bein’ cured. Or, we could watch a movie. It’s up to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She bit her lip. “I wanna see Paul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya wanna see Paul? Why?” Ethan asked, slightly confused. Hannah had been alright with Paul, but not...friendly. She’d seemed much more interested in Emma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the Catalyst.” Was all she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. Let’s go see Paul.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Fuck this chapter. Honestly. It took me two days to write 555 words. Ugh. Anyway, just so y’all know, I’m moving and starting a new job, so for the next month or so, the chapters might be a bit fewer and further between. I’ll do my best to keep it at least one every other day, but we’ll see.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. Hell Hath No Fury</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Not twenty minutes after Emma got back to Paul’s room, Ethan and Hannah showed up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you two doing here?” She practically growled at them when they walked in. She was pissed. Primarily at Xander, but also at herself, because she had </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>seen him, and hadn’t thought to ask for the key to Paul’s handcuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan held his palms out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Peace, lady. We just wanted to see Paul. Check how he’s doing,” he said, very nearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>strutting</span>
  </em>
  <span> past her into the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“~</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hi~</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Paul sang quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan looked back at Emma. “Why’s he handcuffed to the chair?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul cleared his throat, “I-ah…</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ I am damaged~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he made a face as if he’d swallowed a lemon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d made that face earlier, when he sang. Those weren’t the words he meant to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you aren’t,” she said, crossing over to sit next to him. “Your dad-“ Emma jerked her head at Ethan “-left him </span>
  <em>
    <span>locked up</span>
  </em>
  <span> when he left. I don’t have the key.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither Ethan nor Hannah asked why she didn’t ask Xander for it when she had demanded to see him earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eth can pick locks,” Hannah quietly supplied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul’s eyes widened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No no </span>
  <em>
    <span>~no no nooo~</span>
  </em>
  <span>! You shouldn’t- can’t do that! I-I-I...They’re here. Watching. They </span>
  <em>
    <span>own </span>
  </em>
  <span>me. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>~can feel them~</span>
  </em>
  <span> un-under my skin. In my head. They’ll make me leave, a-and they’ll hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma wrung her hands. This had been their conversation for nearly the entire time since she’d returned. She hadn’t been able to convince him that it wasn’t true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re no</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ot in your head~</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Em.” He had said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Which was true, but still.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah walked up to him, wholly unafraid. Grabbing his bandaged, bloody, manacled hands, she said, “You’re special, Mr. Paul. You’re the Catalyst. They can’t hurt you anymore. Webby says so. I say so, too. You’re like us, Mr. Paul. You won’t hurt us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What did that even mean? Like us? Who was ‘us’? How was he like them? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma shook her head and decided that wasn’t important now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eth can pick locks,” Hannah said again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure?” Paul asked hesitantly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t hurt us,” she repeated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Paul was nodding. Nodding at Hannah. Nodding at Ethan to agree to him unlocking the manacles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he said. “Okay okay okay okay okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan opened his jacket, revealing an inside filled with a patchwork of pockets, sewn in in various colors and fabrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Catching Emma’s stare, the teen smirked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My older brother, Jimmy, used to ah...sell shit… or hang with the wrong crowd. He gave me the jacket when he left for ‘Nam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He sewed a bunch in, but then I kept adding ‘em. One for ev’ry month he was gone. They used to call him Pockets. ‘Cuz he had everythin’ ya needed in here. It’s been so long, though. Now it’s just one for every year. I’m runnin’ outta room.” He smiled sadly, then reached into a pocket made from what looked to be denim, and procured a thin piece of wire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma and Hannah watched as Ethan squatted in front of Paul’s chair and examined the locks on the handcuffs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, this is simple shit!” He laughed, wriggling the wire into one, “It’s pra...like it’s askin’ to be picked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a click, the manacles opened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Emma felt absolutely useless. She knew how to pick locks. She had done it plenty of times when she was a teen. She had even worn her hair up today. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>had bobby-pins</span>
  </em>
  <span>! What the fuck was wrong with her? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Everything,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> a little voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother’s whispered in her head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Everything is wrong with you now, </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>Emma</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>. You’re different.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Em?” Paul asked hesitantly, hands outstretched towards her. He was staring at her. They were all staring at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-uh...sorry. Did you say something?” She asked, shaking her head slightly, trying to knock that voice out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- no,” Paul said. “You just looked upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well I’m not!” She snapped, suddenly angry again. Paul reeled back as if she had burned him. She found that she didn’t really care. “I just… I need air. Real air. Ethan, how do I get outside?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked at her, then at Pal, and then back to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, ya know where the elevator is?” She nodded. “Go to the ground floor, and hang a right. Keep walkin’ until ya reach the wall, then turn left. There’s a little… ah fuck, what’s the word… like a garden, but in the middle of a buildin’?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma didn’t hear if anyone answered him as she stormed out of the room.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I am so, so sorry for the delay. Like i said in a previous chapter, I’m in the midst of a move, and i just started at a new job, so I’m figuring out my new schedule, and then my mental health took a nosedive the other day. These aren’t excuses, just explanations. </p><p>I hope you all are doing well, and that you enjoyed the chapter.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. Agony</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma ran. Her bad leg screamed in pain, but she was so angry, so fucking angry, that she didn’t care. The world was going too slowly. When she got to the elevator, she hit the button, but it was too. Damned. Slow. Her stomach writhed. She needed to move. She needed to get outside. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>elevator</span>
  </em>
  <span> to fucking arrive, so she could get some fucking air!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned away from the machine. Stairs. Stairs stairs stairs stairs </span>
  <em>
    <span>stairs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>There</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were. She sprinted towards the door with the exit sign. Emma was on the third floor, and needed to get to the first for the fucking fresh air she so desperately needed. Two flights of stairs. After running. She could do it. She had to do it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Agony. Every step was absolute agony. One flight down, and Emma honestly debated curling into a ball and crying. Her leg throbbed in time with her heart, and- no. No. She could get there. She was more than halfway there, according to Ethan’s directions. She had to keep going. She hadn’t been outside since the day everything had gone to shit. That had been, what? May? May. A month and a half ago. Holy fuck. She hadn’t been outside in a month and a fucking half. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That thought alone was what made Emma keep going. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>lived</span>
  </em>
  <span> for the outdoors, and the sun. The sun...god. She wanted-needed to feel the sun on her face again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she muscled through the pain. And she was on the ground floor. Someone in PEIP’s black uniform asked her a question, but she couldn’t make it out. Emma just shoved past them. The end of the hall. End of the hall. End of the hall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was limping now, but she could see the wall Ethan had said to turn left at-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And there it was. A clear glass door. On the other side, she could see a little pavilion, with a bench, and flower pots, and a tree, and...rain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma did not like rain. Rain meant storms. Rain meant lightning. And wet caves. And cold, damp clothes that stuck to her. And no fire or warmth.  And Sn-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins, are you all right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and Emma whirled, only to come face to face with Frances Belwether. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up at her old therapist and mutely shook her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fran looked almost exactly as she had the last time Emma had met with her, albeit with a few more silver hairs sprinkled in with the auburn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong, Emma dear?” Fran asked, scanning Emma’s face as if she could see into her mind. Maybe she could. “Why are you crying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Crying? When had she started crying? She raised a hand to her cheek and found that, yes, it was slick with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma opened her mouth, but couldn’t formulate the thoughts to get the right words out. Instead, she looked behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want to go outside?” The older woman asked kindly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma nodded, feeling small, like she was sixteen again and unable to speak for those months after the accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you some air, then, dear.” Fran said, and guided her to the door. “It’s been raining all day, so I’ve got my umbrella with me. We can hide from the rain together,” she whispered conspiratorially.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma smiled slightly, even as her stomach twisted with the anticipation of going outside. She had missed Fran. When she’d had no one else, Fran had been her confidant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she opened the door, Fran said lightly, “I do believe we are overdue for a conversation, Emma.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I slept for twelve whole hours last night, and yet I’m still completely exhausted. Why. <br/>Anyways, let me know what you think Fran wants to talk to Emma about!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. Wrong</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>She’d left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma had left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he could follow her. Ethan had uncuffed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~himmm….he’s different...rare~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul knew that already. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Emma- no, she had turned away for a reason. Had left for a reason. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She needed space. She’d been with him for who knows how long, and had been dealing with his issues, and now she needed time to deal with her own. She was fine. She’d be fine. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Slothful bitch! Wrong wrong wrong. Stay away...she’s wrong. Her knowledge...wrong! Slothful, lazy…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand rested on his shoulder and Paul jumped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hang loose, man. She’ll be fine,” Ethan said. “Emma’s a badass.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I know,” Paul said softly, before turning around to face the children. “Emma’s got to be</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ the coolest girl on the face of the~</span>
  </em>
  <span>  shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>~Shit.~</span>
  </em>
  <span> Sorry!” He ran a bandaged hand over his face. “I didn’t mean- I meant-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan laughed. “I know whatcha meant. But, ah, I think my gals Lexi and Banana here might be the coolest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul turned in time to see Ethan gesture to Hannah when he said banana.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s me!” Hannah said animatedly, so different from the other times he’d seen her. “I’m Banana foster, because I love bananas and my last name’s Foster! It’s like the dessert! Ethan made it up.” She reached up to grab the boy’s hand. “Ethan’s a smarty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am not,” the boy in question said as he tugged her closer. Hannah grinned fiendishly up at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are too,” she said, then reached up to try to hold his mouth shut. “See, Mr. Paul? He agrees!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan shoved his head to the side and grinned at Paul. “See what happens if I don’t do what she says? She’s a terror!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul couldn’t keep down the laugh that bubbled up in him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh good, he’s laughing.” Hannah remarked, eyes still bright. “No more moping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moping?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul didn’t mope. He wasn’t moping- was he? No. He was...he was working through issues. And Emma was working on her own issues, and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Banana. We lost him to the long face again.” Ethan plopped down cross legged on the floor, and fiddled with the hem of his jacket. Hannah went to sit a bit more primly on one of the chairs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan cocked his head to the side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Didja hear?” He asked suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked at him. “Hear what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The hat. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your</span>
  </em>
  <span> hat worked. My dad- Gen’ral John MacNamara, not Xander- they cured him! And he stayed normal, even after they took the hat off, so they’re gonna be able to save everybody else! Including Lexi…” Ethan trailed off, grinning broadly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s amazing!” Paul said. And he meant it. Mostly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> bitter that it hadn’t fixed him? Yes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was </span>
  <em>
    <span>he</span>
  </em>
  <span> glad that three hundred people would be saved from the hive? Yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was the hive happy about this? No. Absolutely fucking not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul could feel their anger and fear pulse through them, resonating in his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~they will ruin us! Ruin usssss! We need to feed, need our family! We know secrets, know all secrets! More, more, more secrets until we know allll! They will ruin us! No more,</span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em> no more, NO MORE</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span>!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on they sang into his head, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened them again, Paul wasn’t in his room anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pale gray stone stretched all around him, glistening in the light of the cerulean sky. Home. It was beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a step forward, not daring to blink. As his foot hit the ground, glowing blue spiraled around his foot. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~welcome home~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It seemed to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That voice was so distant, Paul barely heard it as he watched the spiraling cobalt motes float higher in the air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” The voice said again, more insistently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took everything he had, but Paul wrenched his eyes away from the glow, and looked around for the source. No one was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~Who are you?~” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He asked, and only dimly noticed he had sung the question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt hands grip his upper arms, but no one was there.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~Who are you?~”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He asked again, as he struggled to get out of their grip.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul! It’s Ethan. What’s wrong?” Concern laced the voice, and it was only now that Paul could place it as the teen’s. Paul froze, still staring wide eyed at the strange world around him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~...Ethan? I-I can’t see you.~” </span>
  </em>
  <span> why couldn’t he see him? He could hear and feel him, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small hand took his. Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are you?” She asked. “Oh! Oh, you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>there</span>
  </em>
  <span>, aren’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~I don’t know,~”</span>
  </em>
  <span> he admitted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you close your eyes?” What kind of question was that? Of course he cou-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. This had happened before…. had it only been that morning? He’d seen this place before. Seen, through the eyes of the Hive. Right after they’d removed the hat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he had blinked, his worldview had shifted, seeing what the other infected could see. Which meant he was looking through one of their eyes now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But as he looked down at himself, that was exactly what he saw-himself. Not some alien, not another human, but himself. The hands Emma had bandaged so lovingly the night before, the gray sweats and shoes PEIP had given him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~Ah, yes, yes. I can close them,~” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he answered, even as he balked at the thought of looking away from the beautiful terrain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good! Webby says that’s all you need to do to come back.” Hannah said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul looked around him once more, drinking in the view around him, before closing his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Banana?</span>
  <em>
    <span> Hannah</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul opened his eyes, and was both relieved and greatly disappointed to find he was back at PEIP headquarters.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then he saw Hannah.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was staring at him, eyes wide. She started shaking her head frantically as she backed away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not right. Not right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not right</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” She mumbled frantically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana, what’s wrong?” Ethan asked worriedly. “What’s not right?” He reached a hand out to her, but she shoved it away before covering her ears. She dropped to the floor and began rocking slightly, squeezing her eyes shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul didn’t know what to do. He barely knew the girl, and he seemed to be the source of her panic, but he wanted to help somehow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down next to her, ignoring her small shudder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hannah. Uh..thanks for-for helping me back there. Is...is there anything I can do to help?” He asked softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head so hard her braids whacked her cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Webby…. wrong. Wrong. Wrong Catalyst. Not right, not right. She’s never wrong! Never ever!” She said vehemently. She looked up at him. “Mr. Paul, Webby was wrong ‘bout you. You can’t be the Catalyst… you-you’re one of us, but…she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong…</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Hannah finished in a whisper.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guys, I am so, so sorry this is so late! It was a very off week for me, and I just couldn’t seem to get this chapter down.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. Hot John</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Xander was taking John home. It was high time, and if both he and Amanda said it was fine, it was fine, whether any of the lower ranking PEIPs agreed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But, sir! We don’t know how permanent this ‘cure’ is, or if there are any side effects, or if there are-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander raised a hand to stop the man. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tobias, I am well aware of the potential risks, thank you very much. Let the records show that you advised against it.” He said, giving a small smile as he and John walked past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John leaned back and stuck his tongue out at Tobias. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very mature, John,” Xander grumbled as his husband laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Why can’t I have a little fun? I did just come back from the dead, you know. You wouldn’t want to make me sad so soon after you got me back, would you, Darling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eh, fuck you, Asshole.” Xander laughed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had missed John so, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> much. Just joking with him like this lifted about a hundred pounds from his shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, do you think we could swing by my office? I’ve always hated these gray sweats, and I should have a spare set of clothes there.” John asked as they left the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander looked his husband over. No, John looked odd in the light gray clothes he’d been outfitted in. Especially since he usually wore all black. Xander remembered the first time he’d seen the man without his head to toe black uniform, he’d been momentarily shocked. John had invited him to join himself and Amanda to go to a local bar, and Xander had felt like an idiot when he’d realized that, of course John would be wearing civvies rather than the uniform.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeans and a black t-shirt looked ridiculously good on John, Xander had been forced to admit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded to his husband, despite the fact that the office was on the opposite side of the building. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They walked downstairs in silence. This. Just...walking together again, was something Xander hadn’t realized he’d missed as much as he had. John exuded this aura of confidence, of strength, that Xander found calming. Others had claimed the man to be unsettling, but Xander had never agreed. Apparently, John had been a riot as a child, his parents hadn’t known what to do with the angry young boy, and so had sent him away to school. John still had fits of rage and fury, but he’d learned how to control it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Time. Time had been the key, John had told him once. “Counting seconds is practically therapeutic,” he’d said when Xander had laughed the first time he’d been to John’s barracks. Clocks had lined nearly everything surface of his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time is precious. It weaves in and out of every fiber of our beings,” he’d explained when Xander had asked why there were quite so many tickers on the walls. “ Everything has its cycle, its cutoff. Everything has limited time, and time is the key! The key to unlocking the secrets of our universe, no, the multiverse! I’ve seen it myself, my friend. We just need to break the code.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had sounded like the ravings of a madman. If Xander hadn’t witnessed John’s abilities, and seen evidence of other dimensions, he would have easily written his husband’s obsession with time as just that. Ravings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that had been years ago. Now, Xander’s own house was filled with clocks. Some ticking, some frozen. Mostly frozen, which was often annoying, but John asked for little. Who cared if they had an over abundance of timepieces in their house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be back in a moment,” John said as he stepped into his office to change.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright, I am going to let Ethan know we are heading home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He dialed his son’s number into his phone and waited. And waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>While Ethan didn’t particularly like cellphones, he’d grown accustomed to always carrying it with him, so why wasn’t he answering? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Worry gnawed at Xander as he dialed again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t even noticed that he and Hannah hadn’t been outside when John and Xander had left the room. He had no idea where they were. So many floors, so many rooms, and forbidden secrets, and dangers and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One word, and Xander relaxed, Ethan was alright. Then he tensed again. Ethan’s voice had sounded… tight. Exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s wrong?” He demanded into the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, nothin’, nothin’. Hannah ‘n me are with Paul. Uh… I dunno if it’s important, but he zoned out for a bit,” Ethan said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘zoned out’?” Xander asked, leaning against the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...his eyes started glowin’ blue, like, I couldn’t see his pupas, there was so much blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pupils. The black part of the eye is called the pupil. Was that what you meant?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Ethan sighed. “Yeah that’s what I meant. But he couldn’t see us, which was weird, ‘cause we were standin’ right in front of him. And then Hannah started freakin’ out, somethin’ about Webby bein’ wrong? I dunno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? Xander shook his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ethan where are you? I’m coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no no! It’s fine, Dad. Everythin’s under control. Hannah got Paul back by makin’ him blink, and then he helped her calm down a bit by talkin’ to her. She won’t talk, but she looks like she’s doin’ better. Paul’s tellin’ her a story ‘bout a guy at work, and she’s smilin’ so that’s somethin’ at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A pause.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d ya call? Everythin’ hunky dory on your end?” Ethan asked, a hint of anxiety tinting his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything is perfectly fine, Son,” Xander said. “I just wanted to let you know that your father and I are heading home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. We’ll follow in a bit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See you then.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Xander hung up just as John emerged from the office.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mouth went a bit dry at the sight of his husband. Yes, jeans and a black t-shirt looked incredible on John. Xander was a lucky bastard, and he knew it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Everything all right?” John asked as Xander slid his phone into a pocket. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For now,” he said. “I’ll have to run a few diagnostics on Mr. Matthews in the morning, but he should be alright for the night. Oh, and Hannah may not speak at dinner tonight, Ethan said she had an episode related to you know what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nodded. “Perfectly understandable. Many things have happened in the last few days, and she is likely exhausted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took the stairs down to the ground floor. Turning right, the two men continued down the hall.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“General MacNamara! Lieutenant Colonel Lee! Wait!” A young Private ran up to them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John turned around and smiled at the girl. “Diane...Barnes, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stammered, “Ye-yes, General. Um...About thirty minutes ago, a woman-not a peep, Sir, ran through here. I-I tried to stop her sir! I did, but she ignored me. I’ve seen the Lieutenant Colonel with her a few times, but…” she trailed off.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan hadn’t said anything about Emma when they’d talked. Paul and Hannah? Yes. Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander pushed past John to speak with the woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did she go?” He asked harshly, not caring that the soldier flinched slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...she and Dr. Belwether went to the terrace, I think.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander was already walking away by the time Barnes finished speaking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Xander?” John demanded when he caught up after thanking the woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins is asking questions, John,” Xander said. “You know better than I do why she cannot get the answers she is searching for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John nodded as they turned the last corner before the entrance to the courtyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I do. But how can we only tell her part of the whole? We will eventually need her. These cannot just be coincidences. Great things are at play here, Xander, and we need-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander cut him off. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I mean, I don’t know how, but I do know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But John wasn’t listening to him. No, John was staring at the courtyard. Or, more accurately, the short woman huddling next to Fran under an umbrella.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled the door open, gaining the women’s attention.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s eyes widened when she saw him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny?” She breathed.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. Hannah</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter gets a bit dark and bloody in the second half, just so y’all know. Nothing explicitly violent, but it’s threatened.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong <em> wrong </em>. </p><p>The word reverberated in her skull, over and over and over again.</p><p>Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.</p><p>She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus as Webby’s thoughts intruded on her own. </p><p>She’d never been wrong before. Never ever. Wrong? The word shouldn’t be in her dictionary. Not with Webby. Not with a primordial being, practically a deity, guiding her every action, whispering in her ear. Wrong? Hannah wasn’t wrong.</p><p> </p><p>She looked at Paul, the cause of her disorientation. He was different enough from <em> them </em> that he had <em> had </em> to be the Catalyst. Webby had <em> told </em> her he was the Catalyst. But if he was one of the Seven, he couldn’t be. Couldn’t be the one to unite them all. Paul Matthews had fit the bill. He had brought Ethan back to life, which had allowed the teen to be adopted by John, meet her and Lexi, and then bring her to PEIP. Paul had ensured that Emma survived the Apotheosis, primarily by meeting John, who had given them the way out. Webby had claimed that he knew the other two as well, but She wouldn’t say who they were. </p><p>Which left him directly affecting everyone but Hannah. But she hadn’t even considered it because Webby had told-</p><p>Had she?</p><p>Hannah focused over the wailing in her mind, trying to remember the exact words Webby had told her the other night.</p><p>
  <b> <em>My Precious Child, The Catalyst Is Awakening. Find It, Help It, And The World Will Be Righted. The Hive Will Leave, And The Infected Brought To Health. Your Dearest Alexandra Will Be Brought To Health. The Catalyst Is Here…</em> </b>
</p><p>She’d told Xander and Ethan, and then Xander had gone, and the next day she’d met Paul. It had <em> had </em>to be him. </p><p> </p><p>But Webby hadn’t specifically said that Paul was the Catalyst. It had been implied, yes, but never said outright. </p><p>Hannah shivered. </p><p>“Banana?” She looked up at Ethan. He’d put his beloved jacket over her, and she realized she’d been shivering for a while. </p><p>“...sorry,” she whispered. She couldn’t speak louder than that. This was almost too much, but she had to tell Ethan and Paul she was sorry. </p><p>“She speaks!” Ethan crowed, “Paul and me were gettin’ worried you’d be quiet as a churchmouse forever!”</p><p>A smile tugged at her lips. </p><p>She shook her head.</p><p>Paul was sitting next to her, she realized when he asked, “How-how are you <em> ~feelin’~ </em>?” </p><p>“Alright...but Webby…” </p><p>A shriek filled the air, so sharp and piercing that she winced, instinctively curling into Paul’s side. </p><p>“Hannah?” Paul asked at the same time Ethan said,</p><p>“What’s wrong, Banana?”</p><p>She looked up into their concerned faces.</p><p>“Webby’s...upset. Very upset…. she’s screaming… too loud!”</p><p>The men shared a look. </p><p>“Hannah, I-I know how it...how it feels for your mind to be too loud, and <em> ~not alone~ </em>” he shook his head, “In your thoughts. I’m s-sorry.”</p><p>“Kid,” Ethan said, “couldn’tcha try talkin’ to Webby? She likes ya, don’t she? If ya tell her she’s hurtin’ ya, she’s gotta stop. Has she ever hurt ya like this before?”</p><p>Hannah shook her head.</p><p>“Good. Tell her. Tell her that if she don’t stop hurtin’ ya, I’ll take out another one of her eyes.” </p><p>Hannah gasped, staring at him.</p><p>“You...you wouldn’t do that! You <em> couldn’t </em> do that!”</p><p>He stared at her, something hard and cruel glinting in his eyes. “Wanna bet? I’d do anything to protect my family. That includes ya, Banana. I’d find a way to. I swear it.”</p><p> </p><p>She closed her eyes. She didn’t like the look on Eth’s face. It made him look too old, too proud, too...cruel.</p><p> </p><p>Squeezing her eyes tighter, Hannah tunneled into herself. Past emotion, past thought, past everything that made her <em> her </em>, she tunneled. Images flitted by, showing her memories but she ignored them. She knew what she needed to do. Faster and faster she plummeted into herself, until everything around her flickered black and white, black and white, black and white. On and on and on and on until she slammed to the bottom. Everything around her was oily and pitch black. </p><p><em> Webby? </em> She called out with her mind. </p><p>A screech answered her. Hannah turned to where it seemed to come from, and found...webs. Thick, gray webs, just barely a shade off from the blackness surrounding her. She took a tentative step forward, closer to the webbing.</p><p>If she reached out to touch the webs, she wondered, would her hand float through it? Or would she become ensnared, little more than the fly caught in the spider’s trap? And if she were, would Webby release her?</p><p>Hannah considered Webby to be her best friend, next to Lexi, of course, but she knew, deep in her bones, that she was far from that to the spider. She was merely Webby’s Prophet. What that entailed exactly, Webby hadn’t told her. </p><p> </p><p><em> Webby where are you? </em>She asked, rubbing her arms. It was always cold here. Always freezing in the Black and White. Or at least this Square. She wasn’t wearing anything, since she wasn’t exactly...corporeal. Looking at her hands, she saw that they were the same as always, brilliant white lights that coalesced into a vaguely human form. If she entered one of the white Squares of the Black and White, Hannah wondered if her form would turn black, becoming an absence of light rather than a beacon, to keep the balance, or if she would always look the same. </p><p>She supposed it didn’t matter, as she always ended up in the same place, although Webby was usually waiting at the bottom…</p><p>Another scream filled the air, and Hannah quickened her pace, following the path of webbing. </p><p>She walked for what felt like hours in the darkness, her light the only illumination around. The webs grew thicker and thicker, until Hannah had to hop to avoid the sticky substance that began to cover the ground. She really, really did not want to touch them, but it was getting more and more difficult to avoid them. She smelled it before anything else. Thick and cloying, Hannah smelt the metallic tang of blood. </p><p> </p><p>She froze.</p><p>
  <em> Webby? </em>
</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>
  <em> Webby, please...I’m scared. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Hannah braved another step forward, and her inner light illuminated them. The bodies. Plural. None were whole, but their three heads were left completely intact. Screaming. They had been screaming, Hannah realized. Their mouths stretched open, eyes wide with terror. The gray webs holding the dismembered pieces were nearly as black as the surrounding ebony air. Only...they reflected her light, and she could see them dripping. </p><p>That was where the smell of blood had come from. </p><p>Hannah squeaked and took a step back, only to hit something hard. </p><p>Looking behind her, she saw a long, dark purple leg. Webby.</p><p> </p><p><b> <em>My Precious Child, Welcome To My Home.</em> </b> The spider said.</p><p>
  <b> <em>What Is Wrong? Do You Not Like My Other Children? </em> </b>
</p><p>What? Other children?</p><p>
  <em> Webby? I don’t understand. </em>
</p><p><b> <em>Hannah, Precious Child,</em> </b> </p><p>Webby scuttled over her and turned around, so Hannah could look into her  seven deep scarlet eyes. She could see the pale lavender scarring over the one Webby had told her a scorpion had removed millennia ago. </p><p>
  <b> <em>Did You Think You Were My Only Prophet? No, Of Course You Did. You Had No Way Of Knowing, Did You? Not Without Me Telling You So…</em> </b>
</p><p>Webby’s voice was sweet, and kind, and warm as it rippled around her. Hannah had to fight to remind herself that the words were not.</p><p>
  <b> <em>You Know, Precious Child, That I Am Older Than Your Moon, Older Than Stars, Older Even, Than Your Young Universe. You Know That There Are Other Worlds...My Prophets, My Children There Have All Failed Me. You Will Not. </em> </b>
</p><p>Hannah looked at the three heads suspended in the webs and shivered. Was Webby going to Kill her?</p><p>
  <b> <em>Oh Precious Child! That Is Not Your Fate. No, No This Is Merely A Warning. A Warning That, Should You Fail Me, There Are Fates Worse Than The Deaths Any Of The OTHERS Would Gift You. </em> </b>
</p><p>At her words, the eyes of the closest head suddenly shot to Hannah. She screamed and covered her mouth. She shouldn’t have done that...</p><p>
  <b> <em>You See? I’ll Admit That I Am Something Of A Glutton, My Precious Child, My Hannah Dearest. But I Have A Fondness For My Children, Even If They Fail Me. Even If They Leave Me Locked Here In My Realm...I Still Love Them...So I Leave Just A Tiny Part Of Their Souls...I Devour all the Rest, Of Course, And It Is Unbearably Painful, I’ve Been Told. Punishment, For Their Failures… But Hannah, My Precious Child. I Want You To See This. I Want You To Know That I Am Never Wrong. YOU Are Wrong. Never Me, Precious Child. And If You Are Wrong Again, If You Fail To Collect All The Pieces In This Beautiful Game Of Chess, All Of The Flies In My Glorious Web, You Will Be Punished. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>There Are Other Worlds. Other Chances For Me To Come Through. Other Prophets. Other Precious Children. Do Not Think You Are Special To Me. You Are Not. You Are Special Only Compared To The Rest Of Your Pathetic, Mortal World. </em> </b>
</p><p>
  <b> <em>Remember That.</em> </b>
</p><p>A long, seemingly endless leg pushed Hannah back into the webs surrounding them. Deeper and deeper and deeper, the smell of blood still stuck in her nose, still sliding down her throat. Deeper and deeper and deeper, until she opened her eyes. </p><p>She was back in her body, back at PIEP. </p><p>And then Hannah screamed. And screamed. And screamed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Y’all. This was originally gonna be like two hundred words. I just kept adding and adding. Oops.<br/>Webby’s lair was inspired by Darren Shan’s Lord Loss, who had an entire dimension filled with bloody webs, and I just loved the idea that Webby had the same, and wasn’t as benevolent as we’d been led to believe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. Intrusive Thoughts and Missing People</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Y’all! We’ve reached 40,000 words!! We’re at the minimum length to be considered a novel!? I’ve never written this much before, and a huge part of why I’ve kept this one up is because of all the amazing support y’all have given. Thank you all so much!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Hannah was screaming. Horrible, bloodcurdling screams as she writhed on the cold tiles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan had felt his heart stop when she’d closed her eyes. Her breathing nearly completely stopped, and he’d been certain she’d died. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul had felt for her pulse, though, and had confirmed that Hannah was still alive, just...meditating. She’d stayed like that for almost twenty minutes, and when she’d woken back up, her eyes had been glowing white. And then she’d started screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana! Hannah, please! What’s wrong?” He practically begged the girl. She wasn’t hurt- he couldn’t see anything that would cause her to be in pain, but...those screams…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was writhing on the ground, her arms flailing so much that he worried that Hannah would end up hurting herself. Ethan reached out to gently grab her arm, and her screams subsided, slowly dissolving into pitiful whimpers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Has...Has this happened before?” Paul asked hesitantly, watching the young girl in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Ethan breathed in response. “Least not with me around… and Lexi never said nothin’ about it happenin’ before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan stroked some of the hair that had escaped her braids from her face, and she curled into him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana, can ya hear me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She let out a small whimper and shivered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Hannah, It’s okay. You’re okay. Can ya tell me what happened?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shook her head and burrowed deeper into his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hannah?” Paul asked, “Did...did you see </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
  <em>
    <span>~the Spiderrrr?~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A strangled sob escaped the child and Ethan squeezed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That Bitch!” He seethed. “I’ll kill her. I’m finally gonna kill her.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul gave him a look Ethan couldn’t read. He didn’t bother trying to. That...that...that </span>
  <em>
    <span>spider</span>
  </em>
  <span> had always been a thorn in his side, and now that it had hurt his Hannah? Un-fucking-acceptable. Ethan couldn’t stand for </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>girl, </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> family, to be hurt. It was a blow to his pride, to his honor-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>...</span>
  <em>
    <span>his Hannah</span>
  </em>
  <span>? He blinked. Hannah wasn’t his. She wasn’t some...toy or pet whose ownership could be passed around. She was a fucking human being. Those weren’t...those hadn’t been his thoughts. Had they? No. </span>
  <em>
    <span>No</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah was still wrapped in his jacket, and he scooped her up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...ah...I gotta go, Paul. I’ll see ya around. I gotta see John. Or Xander. Or...or someone who knows what the fuck’s goin’ on.” And he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t care about the eyes of the peeps around him as he carried the crying girl. He had to get her home, had to get to his dads. If the anger issues were coming back… he couldn’t be that person around Hannah. Not that it was really </span>
  <em>
    <span>anger</span>
  </em>
  <span> issues, not like John had….it was more… angry and rude intrussive thoughts. He couldn’t have those thoughts again. He’d fought too hard to identify them as not his own, to push them out, to have it all come crumbling down. His dads could help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Could they? John had gotten himself killed. The foolish fucking idiot. And Xander? Xander was pathetic. Ethan deserved better than them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. Nope. That was absolutely not true. The opposite was true. They were brilliant and brave and wonderful, and he was an idiot who had gone through a portal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raced through the doors, too slow. Too fucking slow. Ethan snarled as he tore through the small parking lot, until he reached his jalopy. As he practically shoved Hannah into the back seat, he decided he would start with the eyes. The delightfully juicy crimson eyes. Then he would tear off the Bitch’s legs, one by one. Next- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan pounded his head into the steering wheel, releasing a blaring honk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah whimpered in the back seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry Banana! I’m so, so sorry! I’m gonna get us home as fast as I can. I promise! You’ll be safe with Xander and John.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small hand touched his shoulder. He looked to find Hannah with tears still running down her face, holding his arm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t you. Webby doesn’t lie.” Her voice was hoarse, and so small Ethan had to strain to hear it. “She...she told me. It’s him. It’s the scorpion. He’s Proud. He’s yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice got a little stronger as she spoke, staring him dead in the eyes, despite the tremors that still shook her. “They influence us. Make us like them. Make us want to be...more. More evil. It isn’t you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was. It was him. He genuinely wanted to hurt Webby for scaring and hurting Hannah. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I used to want to eat. All the time. Remember?” He did. “Webby is a Glutton. She wanted me to be the same. We didn’t have enough food for me and Lexi, so it didn’t work. He wants you to be like him. The Hive want’s Paul to Want, to be Greedy. It isn’t us.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crawled over the console and curled up in the seat next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana,” he started, but she spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t good, Eth. But we can be. Lexi told me about your fights, and then how you changed. You fought him. I...Webby’s cruel. I didn’t know. I don’t know if I can fight her. She’s my friend. Even if she is mean…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trailed off into silence, and they sat there for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need to see John,” Ethan said. “We’re gonna go home, okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded, and buckled herself into the seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent the short drive in silence, Hannah absently chewing on the tip of her fraying braid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they got to the house, Ethan froze. His was the only car there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where were Xander and John?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. Secrets and Lies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma was huddled under an umbrella with her old therapist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Neither had spoken a word since they’d stepped outside, although Emma was fairly sure that that was because Frances didn’t want to intrude on her thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>outside</span>
  </em>
  <span> after over a month and a half stuck in the building, Emma was outside. Sure it was raining, sure it was almost sunset, but she didn’t care. She was outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighed contentedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” she said to her former therapist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Emma dear. You looked distressed.” Fran said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was. Am. I was.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fran leveled her with a look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Emma demanded, throwing an arm up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem conflicted. What’s on your mind?” The older woman asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma scoffed and tugged on a stray curl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re prying again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Frances smiled. “You’ll have to forgive me, dear. It’s part of my job description.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. Over a decade later, and the woman was still using the same excuses.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s my job to pry. I have to have that information. It is vital that I understand what is going on. </span>
  </em>
  <span>On and on and on,</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Fuck that. You’re a fucking busybody.” Emma snapped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Fran just smiled. “Still coping through sarcasm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still being a bitch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me, Emma dear, how was your trip to Guatemala? Jane told me all about it, and how you would send her pictures every now and again. She loved showing off those photos, you know. She was always so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma’s heart skipped a beat. Jane. Her sister. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jane</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How…” she cleared her throat. “How long were you in contact with Jane? After I left, that is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The idea that this woman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>her</span>
  </em>
  <span> therapist, had been close to her older sister? Emma felt sick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew her longer than I knew you. Jane had been working here for almost two years when the accident happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What? No, that...that wasn’t right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma laughed uneasily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...I think you’re getting a bit confused in your old age. Jane didn’t work for PEIP. She was a fucking teacher’s aid. She helped the biology teacher at Hatchetfield High for fucks sake!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fran grabbed Emma’s hand with her free one. “In the summer? At night? Emma, you’re smarter than that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hit Emma then, that, yes, Jane </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> gone to work in the summer. And she would work long into the night. How had she never…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jane had been the good girl. She never lied. Emma had always taken her older sister’s word as the gospel truth. She’d been six years younger than Jane, and had practically worshipped the ground she’d walked on. Of course she would have believed her. Of course she would have taken the blame for any inconsistencies in her sister’s story. Jane </span>
  <em>
    <span>couldn’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>have been wrong, or lying, or-or-or-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck! She lied to me! To mom and dad, too!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll find, Emma dear, that the majority of those under PEIP’s employ choose not to tell their families what they really do. Jane worked closely with Xander, actually. They both trained, along with Dr. Lee’s now husband, General MacNamara, under a man named Wilbur Cross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Cross. Why did that name sound so familiar? And...and Xander had known Jane? Why hadn’t he told her?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma? You don’t look too well, why don’t we take a seat?” Fran escorted her to the small bench in the courtyard. She felt numb. They’d lied to her. Her sister and Xander had </span>
  <em>
    <span>lied</span>
  </em>
  <span> to her! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Emma wanted Paul. She wanted him to smile that stupid crooked smile, and tell her that it was going to be okay, and that she wasn’t a villain who deserved to be lied to. Why had she run from him in the first place? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh. Yeah. Because she had been fucking useless when he had needed her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma, walk me through what’s going on in your head.” It was a command, and Emma found herself speaking on instinct, before she had even fully processed what the doctor had said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m wondering why my sister, my best friend, would lie to me about her job. I was so much younger than she was, I probably wouldn’t have even understood it, so she’d have been completely safe. I’m wondering if that’s why she started avoiding me after my accident, because you were my therapist, and she was worried that I’d make some fucking connection between the two of you? And maybe that was how my parents knew to hire you? I feel so fuckihng stupid! Was this all just a game of ‘don’t tell Emma’?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m wondering why the fuck I’m telling you this, you prying bitch, but at the same time, I’m thinking, ‘fuck it’! You know everything about me, because what I didn’t tell you, my older sister did! So why the fuck shouldn’t I tell you more? I feel so </span>
  <em>
    <span>useless</span>
  </em>
  <span> just sitting around here, but at the same time, I’m secretly enjoying myself, because I don’t have any real responsibilities. I don’t have to worry about where I’m gonna sleep tonight like I did in Guatemala. I don’t have to put up with Nora and fucking Zoey breathing down my fucking neck. I don’t have anyone relying on me here now that Paul’s back, and it both hurts, and feels fucking great. He’s the only person I’ve got right now, which is good, ‘cause apparently I let down everyone I come into contact with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathed heavily. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...just fuck off. I’ll be fine out here alone. Go home, Fran. Please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma felt so heavy. So fucking heavy, as if the rain was slowly filling her up and slowing her down, trying to claim her for itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma darling…” the therapist started, but was cut off by the creak of a door opening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looked up to find a golden haired man standing in the doorway she and Fran had exited through nearly half an hour before. That hair...it was so familiar. Wavy and brushing his shoulders, it was easily the man’s most noticeable feature. And then she remembered him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny?” She breathed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is it cheating for me to use the same cliffhanger twice? I don’t care, ‘cause I’m doing it anyways lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. Familiar faces and Old tales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Johnny?” She breathed, hardly daring to believe it was him. It had been fifteen years, after all, since she’d last seen him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins.” The golden haired man said, grinning slightly. “I’ll admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you so soon after I woke up. Did you miss me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miss him? Did she miss him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I fucking missed you, you asshole! Holy fuck, you were the only person there for me after the accident!” She exclaimed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was true. Her parents hadn’t visited her when she’d been in the hospital- maybe three times in the nine months she’d been there. Jane had come, but had seemed...distant. Sad. And she hadn’t really been invested in Emma’s recovery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny had…. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Supposedly, Johnny had been the one to dive into the water and save her, when Linda and her friends had been too shocked to understand what had happened. He’d visited her almost every day, even when she hadn’t been able to communicate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where the fuck have you been?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His smile disappeared, and was replaced by a frown as he looked to the man who walked in behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma saw him, and almost growled. Xander Lee. Xander fucking Lee, who had apparently </span>
  <em>
    <span>worked</span>
  </em>
  <span> with her sister, and had willingly kept that information from her. But why was he with Johnny-oh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck no.” She said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander’s lips thinned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fucker! You absolute fucking liar!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma,” Xander started, but Emma kept talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Johnny Mac? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Johnny Mac</span>
  </em>
  <span>? How fucking stupid was I not to get it? John MacNamara. Johnny Mac.” Emma stalked towards the two men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma, there was a reason-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck you and your ‘reasons’ Xander! I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing</span>
  </em>
  <span>! When I left that hospital, I had half a head of old memories, and my only friend disappeared. And...and you!” She whirled to Frances. “How many times did I tell you I needed a fucking friend? How many times? I told you how much I missed Johnny- missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Emma jabbed a finger at the general. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I- I- how could you? All of you? I want the truth. All of it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny and Xander shared a Look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander reached a hand out to grasp her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alright. No more lies. But the story is a long one. It starts long before Hatchetfield was founded as such…”     </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guys...I’m sorry. I got completely absorbed with another, really, really cool au’s fandom, and I couldn’t seem to focus on this.<br/>On the one hand, I got a shit ton of art done, and the au is amazing, if you haven’t read it yet, check out Let it (In), by aspiringaspie, EclipseAtDawn, and fencecollapsed. It’s absolutely phenomenal!<br/>On the other hand, this was supposed to be out like four days ago soooo oops.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. Secrets Revealed</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Alright. No more lies. But the story is a long one. It starts long before Hatchetfield was founded as such…”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” Emma cut it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander sighed. She wanted answers. Why couldn’t  she just let him explain, rather than interrupt?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, that our story begins before Hatchetfield was named. Before America was named. Long, long before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She furrowed her brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Emma said, and was about to open her mouth to say more, when Fran quickly said, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we all step inside. John, Xander, Darlings, you’re both soaking wet, and will only get wetter if we stay out in this inclement weather.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indeed, he and his husband were both drenched, and Emma, who had left the shelter of the umbrella was on her way to joining them in soppy misery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brilliant as always, Franny.” John said before turning and holding the door open to let the others pass through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander could have sworn he heard Emma hiss at John, “you and I aren’t finished yet, buddy,” as she passed through the doorway.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fran led them all into her office, which was outfitted with couches, pillows, and armchairs galore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mind the furniture, sit, sit! A little water won’t ruin them,” She said when they all hesitated to sit on the chairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma curled up on a large armchair, while Xander and John took the loveseat. Fran, as always, sat primly in the seat behind her desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are aware that this </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> a therapy session, right, Fran?” Xander asked wryly as he surveyed the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it isn’t,” was her response, said in the manner of one who very much believed that it was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I’m sorry, but can we please get to the explaining part of this- wait, no, no,  I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry. Because I’m not the one who withheld serious information from you all.” Emma bit out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course, of course,” Xander ran a hand down his face. “Now, we don’t know everything here for a fact, but we have found enough evidence to support our theories that they are most likely sound. Approximately two thousand years B.C., the island that would become Hatchetfield was still in approximately the same spot, however, we have found evidence to believe that it was much larger. But I’ll get to that in a moment.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone rang. He hung up without looking at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have heard of the Hatchetfield caverns, I presume?” Xander asked Emma, who nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good. PEIP explored the massive cave systems years ago, and found art. Rudimentary at first, but well preserved, and easy to understand. The first few images were very basic, turkeys, stick figure portraits, etc. But then when PEIP went further into the caves, we found…” he trailed off, searching for the right word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A mural. The local tribe’s story, put entirely into art.” John supplied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander smiled and squeezed his husband’s hand in thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly. It depicted a tribe, whose leader was outed when a young girl discovered fire. This fire brought both splendors and glooms to the tribe, and the new leader, the Firebringer was outcast after it wiped out their entire village.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander spared a look at Emma, whose brow was now furrowed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone rang again. Again, he hung up without looking at it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One of the tribe members was taken by what appeared to be a vicious beast, likely a large cat, and the others went to rescue him. The outcast leaders found each other and returned to help their tribe. After defeating the beast-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snarl…” Emma breathed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What was that?” He asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-nothing,” she said, “just… it felt...right? I dunno. But what does this fucknig tribe have to do with why you all lied to me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander frowned. “We’re getting there, Emma, I promise. After the tribe defeated...Snarl? Did you say? One of the members revealed themself to be an Eldritch Being by the name of Chorn. We don’t know much about this Being, other than that they dislike work, but values knowledge. After revealing themself, they blessed the tribe with the knowledge of the world, then left the people. The mural showed that after Chorn left, a vast storm appeared.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We believe that the storm was provoked by the energy produced by Chorn to return to the Black and White. The tribe nominated the Firebringer to venture into the storm to try to gather more fire. The final image in the mural was a bolt of lightning surrounding the girl.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma’s eyes widened. “Like Ethan!” She exclaimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Exactly like Ethan,” Xander confirmed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, she knows about…?” John asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, as does Paul and young Hannah. It was explained last night.” Xander said apologetically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” was all John said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lapsed into silence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...what happened to the Firebringer?” Emma asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She came here.” Xander said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, here?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, here.” He confirmed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Approximately fifteen years ago, a storm came suddenly, out of nowhere. A group of girls had gone out on one of their parent’s yachts for a late night cruise, and at exactly three in the morning, one girl fell off the boat, and hit her head on the rocks below.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I know that. We were stupid. And I didn’t fall, I was pushed by my bitchy cousin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but either way, young Emma Perkins fell into the water that morning, and never emerged.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The fuck are you talking about?” Emma asked with a small laugh. “I’m right fucking here! Of course I ‘emerged’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander fixed her with a look, willing her to connect the dots.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fran was shaking her head softly, and John’s eyes were closed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Emma Perkins died mere moments after her head connected with those rocks. She died at 3:01 in the morning. One minute after the Firebringer came through. The Firebringer, who was barely a year older than-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone rang once again. He shoved it into his pocket. He spared another glance at Emma, whose face had turned ashen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Firebringer, barely a year older than Emma Perkins, looked remarkably like the young girl. So, so remarkably like her, that Emma’s older sister, Jane Perkins, who had been on that boat, made a split second decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why make people mourn a girl who was not dead? Who was floating in the water, even as another girl sunk deeper in? PEIP had been monitoring that storm, and the weather patterns leading up to it. We knew it was coming. We were moments away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Our mentor,” John said, “mine, Xander’s and Jane’s, that is, brought me to the site that day. When we got close enough, I jumped into the water to get the… Firebringer out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma burst out, “Me! You got </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> out, Johnny. Not….not…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Emma,” Xander said softly. “You’re a smart woman. You already know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...how?...I think...fuck. Fucking hell. Yeah. I’m the Firebringer, aren’t I? That’s what Hannah kept calling me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Precisely. We-“</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone rang. Again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time he looked at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Four missed calls from Ethan. Four increasingly terrified voice messages.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Guys, we’ve been building to this chapter since chapter fucking three! I hope y’all enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0060"><h2>60. War</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The Hive was frightened. No, the Hive was </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrified</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Their discordant lyrics echoed through Paul’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~the mistress! </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>She’ll kill us all! </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ruination! Destruction!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>On and on their voices rang in his head. Ever since the little girl’s eyes had opened and been blinding white, his family had been in chaos. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~the spiderrrr! She will feast on us! She will kill us all!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mustn’t anger her, mustn’t be noticed! She will lure us into her webs and devour us!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Hannah had called her Webby. A seemingly innocuous, childish name for something that left Paul’s skin crawling just from the Hive’s lyrics.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was still standing where he’d been when Ethan and Hannah had left. Still roiling from the memory of that </span>
  <em>
    <span>place</span>
  </em>
  <span>, his home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, not his home. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hive’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> home. It must have been where they’d come from before they’d...become something more. But…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But how had he even seen it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A voice, painfully familiar, separated itself from the hive’s wailing.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~prophetttt….Paul….my friend. We see, we hear, we know all that our family knows. We see through all eyes. In the Hive, we keep no secretssss~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bi</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ill?~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he asked into the empty air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His best friend. They’d been close enough to be brothers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul could hear the smile in his friend’s voice when he sang next.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~we know all, Paul. We live to serve our Mistress, the Great One. We feed her secretttssss~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was definitely Bill’s voice, but there was nothing of the man Paul had adored in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The spider. Webby.” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bill hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~do not speak her name! She is our Mistress. Our Lady of Ways, Our Lady of Meanssss. We are not permitted to speak her name! She is mightier than we shall ever beee~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But...but you’re both...Eld</span>
  <em>
    <span>~ritch Beings!~</span>
  </em>
  <span> Would-wouldn’t you be equal in power?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The voice practically wailed in his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~NO! Wrong! Lesser. Lesser, we are. We are many, our power is strong, but the Mistress is All Powerful. All knowing. We serve her. Feed her. And she permitssss us to grow!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul was certain he was learning more than he should be. His head pulsed a warning. Webby had...</span>
  <em>
    <span>hurt</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hannah, somehow. Had hurt a little girl for making a mistake. About him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Waddya think about co~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he coughed, “fuck. What do you know about the Catalyst?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could almost feel the Hive’s shudder. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~ the Catalyst….~</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bill sang slowly. </span>
  <em>
    <span>~ the Catalyst unites the Prophets. It is both a threat, and an ally. The Catalyst… if it fails, the Prophets fail. Wrong! Wroooong. Paul, Prophet….there is War. Among the Seven! We fight for dominion o’er all dimensionsss.~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~ The Black and White, our Battlefield. The Mistress has claimed the White, but He...He has dominion o’er the Black. The Catalyst’s soul is Ours! A bet was made, a bet was won… where the Catalyst was born would determine the fun. Even...the Squares are even, only for now. Our Mistress will win the War, and claim all the multiverse as Her own! The Seven...Seven Prophets for Seven Eldritch Beings. Odd. Wrong. Evennn. Must be great! Catalyst makes eight. Catalyst. Catalyst decides who to fight for, who will wiiiin…~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That made no fucking sense. No sense, and Paul’s head was pounding. The rest of the Hive was still wailing and shrieking about Webby, but Bill’s solitary voice was...insane. Twisted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pushing aside the blossoming headache, Paul asked, “How? How does the Catalyst decide who will win? Wouldn’t you want it to be uneven? So that you’d have the advantage?”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~No! Catalyst will not fight. The Catalyst must be sacrificed. To whose side….that decides who will win. It has already begun, Prophet. Prepare… you know your side...with usss. You are different from the othersss. </span>
  </em>
  <b>
    <em>We</em>
  </b>
  <em>
    <span> are different… we are many. We are all! You are a part of us. The other Prophetsss are merely puppets. You are part of a whole!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of a whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of a Whole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of the Hive, who collected souls to feed to Webby…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pieces were fitting together, but there were still too many gaps. His head pounded one final time, and Paul collapsed.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I figured chapter 60 was as good a time as any to introduce this information. There is a strong possibility that I will not be able to post again until like Friday, so I’m sorry- I’ll still try though, since we’ve got a couple of cliffhangers here. Hope you enjoyed!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0061"><h2>61. Panic</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Xander wasn’t picking up. Xander </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t picking up</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander always picked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where was he where was he where was he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan had dropped Hannah off with a confused Amanda, and had immediately returned to the research building. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swiped away the now soaking hair clinging to his forehead and asked the guard at the front desk what time his dads had left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The young woman, Barnes, Ethan thought her name tag said, clicked her tongue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The General and Lieutenant Colonel haven’t left the building,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? Whaddya mean? I just talked to them ‘bout...thirty, forty minutes ago. They said they were comin’ home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something had to be wrong. Why were they still in the building? The infected! Pau had been acting weird before Hannah had been...attacked ( </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill the spider, finish what I started….</span>
  </em>
  <span>). It must have something to do with that!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh..I’m not sure what they told you, but last time I saw them, I told them about a woman running towards the courtyard. They probably went there.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Emma. Ethan immediately felt guilty. She’d left in a rush earlier, and then he’d completely forgotten about her. Then again, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>pathetic, as was her-No. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with the infected…. Ethan still thought that was unlikely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left for the courtyard without a word to the young Peep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>… nothing. It was completely empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan’s heartbeat echoed thunderously in his head. They were gone they were gone they were gone. Fuck! And he’d left Hannah alone with Amanda. If he went for her now, would they be gone, too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He called Xander again. Nothing. Shit shit shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t think, couldn’t focus. Where would they have gone? What could have happened to make them...disappear? In this building, a whole fuck ton. Where did he even begin to look first? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan couldn’t breathe. Think think think think </span>
  <em>
    <span>think</span>
  </em>
  <span>!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would Jimmy do? He didn’t know. Jimmy was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>What would Lexi do? He didn’t know that, either. Lexi was also dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander. Calm, brilliant, Xander. What would he do? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Go to their offices…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Offices! Of course. They could have gotten hung up on something, or had to go back to grab something!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran down the halls, not caring who saw. Taking the stairs two at a time, he prayed he wouldn’t miss them if they came down the elevator. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He skidded to a stop in front of Xander’s office. Door locked, light off. Fuck. He dug his lock picking set out from one of his many pockets and tried to get the door open. Not fast enough not fast enough not fast enough!</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door swung open to reveal an empty room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan didn’t even bother locking the door as he bolted to John’s. John never locked doors, and this was no exception. Unlocked, but lights off and room empty. God fucking damn it! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A chill ran over him. What...what if they had </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Had just...decided to leave, and wouldn’t come back and he was all alone and-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul. Paul was still here, wasn’t he?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to be. He wasn’t supposed to leave his room. But…but if everyone else was gone…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan sprinted back to Paul’s room, praying he was still in. He yanked open the door to find…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hey, sorry this one is so short. Also, I’m not sure when I’ll update next, the last few days have been really hectic, and my mental health has really taken a nosedive. With any luck there’ll be a new chapter by Saturday, but no promises.<br/>Also, for anyone following The Woes of Alexandra Foster, I’m still working on it. I just maaaay have backed myself into a bit of a corner and am dealing with shit that is gonna get a tad bit personal for me that’ll be playing into the story.<br/>If you haven’t read that, it’s a prequel to this story, so it’s not necessary to understand this one, but...eventually some events here will make more sense and have more details if you read that one. </p><p> </p><p>Hope any of that made a semblance of sense. I cant seem to focus lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0062"><h2>62. Identity Theft??</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Numb. Emma was numb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had to be lying. Had to be making this shit up. It had to be a hoax. Time travel- inter dimensional travel </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t possible</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And yet...and yet Ethan was proof that it was. And why would her old therapist, her new friend, and an Army General lie to her? And…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it felt right. Firebringer. Something inside her thrummed whenever they said the word. Jane had seemed distant, after the accident, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do I remember what happened before…” she struggled to find the right word, before settling on what she’d always called that moment, “the accident? I mean...that...that wasn’t me...if what you’re saying is true.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John smiled slightly and said, “ Correct. That girl was not you. Our mentor, Wilbur Cross, the man in charge of Emma’s ‘recovery’, employed Frances’ skills to...help you remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember our early sessions?” Fran asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma nodded hesitantly. “Vaguely, yes. It’s all...jumbled, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The redhead smiled. “Understandably so. Do you remember the photos I showed you? Yes? Good. Those photos provided...how shall I put this...faux memory food. Emma’s- </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span>- family was more than willing to give us copies of family photographs. We used them to help you build false memories. Did you know that the human memory is incredibly unreliable? Up to seventy percent of our memories are altered or false in some way. The brain really is a miraculous thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We used photos and stories and a little bit of technology to give both you and your parents the illusion of you healing from amnesia. You had already lost your memories from before, so all we had to do was give you vague outlines, and your mind did the rest, without you even noticing a thing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They...they had fucked with her mind. They had given her fake memories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wished Xander hadn’t left the room to make a phone call. He was good at comforting, and fuck it, she needed comforting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...fuck. What now?” She asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John leaned forward and propped his elbows on his knees, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinked at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, ‘</span>
  <em>
    <span>what do you mean</span>
  </em>
  <span>’? What now? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I can’t keep fucking personifying a dead girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>! It’s...it’s...it’s identity theft! That’s illegal!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can and you must. You are, for all intents and purposes, Emma Perkins-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma exclaimed, “But she’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead!</span>
  </em>
  <span> No one mourned her! She died and no one knows-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Precisely, miss Perkins! Only six people in the world knew exactly what happened that day. Three are in this room, one is out in the hall, one is dead, and the other has gone mad. Outside of yourself, Xander, Frances, and I are the only people who know everything and have the ability to tell anyone. But we will not. And you’re incorrect. Your sister mourned her loss, despite being the one to develop this entire ruse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“In fact you are not only </span>
  <em>
    <span>legally</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emma Perkins, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. There can be no two identical souls in the same dimension, Miss Perkins. Your’s and young Emma’s were completely identical. You were the same person, born in two vastly different times, in two different dimensions. Names, age? Those are inconsequential in the vast sea of the Black and White. A soul is a soul. So believe me when I tell you, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> Emma Perkins. And besides,” John leaned back into the chair, “you’ve had her identity nearly as long as she had it. It’s yours.” John said gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snorted but didn’t say anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander opened the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes wide, he said in a voice too calm, “Ethan called me four times, and I missed them all. He isn’t picking up.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Welp...I’m back. Hi. I’m back much sooner than I thought I’d be, but I had the urge to write this, and so I figured I’d go ahead and post so...tada lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0063"><h2>63. Too Little Too Late</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Ethan had opened the door, he hadn’t known what to expect. Maybe that the room would be empty, or maybe that Paul would be sitting on his bed. What he had not expected was...</span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>. All thoughts of Xander and John abandoned him as he stared at the scene before him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cerulean blood poured from the crumpled body on the floor, spilling from his eyes, his ears, his mouth. Paul was absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>covered</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sprawled in the middle of the room, completely still. He had to be dead. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be, with the amount of blood staining the normally prist...pristine white tiles. Only, Ethan knew that if Paul were dead, really, truly dead, he would not still be bleeding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Crouching, not caring that he was getting the blue shit all over his jeans, Ethan placed two fingers on the side of Paul’s neck, ready to jump away at the slightest movement from the man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Then, a beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And nothing. Nothing. Nothing. A beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His pulse was so slow… Ethan couldn’t tell if his heartbeat was supposed to be that slow now that Paul was...mostly dead due to the Infection. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Paul? Man, can ya hear me?” Ethan asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No response. Shit…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...uh...I’m gonna try to move ya, so...if ya can hear me, that’s all it is.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul was a tall man, Ethan quickly realized, and he was completely unresponsive, which made trying to carry him...difficult.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He maneuvered the limp man so that Ethan could half drag, half carry him to the bed. The second he felt he had a secure enough grip on Paul, though, his phone rang. Loudly. The peppy ringtone seemed to jerk Paul to a state of semi-consciousness, and he flailed in his arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit, Paul, Paul! Calm the fuck down! Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell</span>
  </em>
  <span> dude!” Ethan shouted as Paul fought against him, his eyes glowing brighter than Ethan had seen them. Paul swung blindly and managed to hit Ethan square in the jaw. The teen flew backwards, further than he should have, Ethan thought dully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rubbing at the ache in his jaw, Ethan got back to his feet, ready to try to keep Paul at bay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Paul had collapsed again and was singing nonsense to himself under his breath as he rocked back and forth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~part of a whole… Black and White...the Mistress, the Mistress! Part of the whole, not one, evens and odds. Catalyst...find the Catalyst. Too...too late, too late too late too late too late too late too late too late too late too late…~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words devolved into what seemed like a skipping record. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~...too late too late too late too late too late…~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Paul sang blankly, not seeming to notice the blue still dripping from his every… oraf...orif...orifice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hell,” Ethan breathed. “I ain’t fuckin’ prepared for this shit…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his words, Paul’s head whipped up, and a tiny bit of recognition filled his too-bright eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~too late too late too late...Ethan?....too little...too little too late too little too late too little too late!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he sang desperately.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span> you recognize me? Yeah. It’s Ethan.” He crouched next to Paul again, and tried to grab his hand, but the man jerked it away. “Okay. Okay. Got it. No touchin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~too little too late!</span>
  </em>
  <span>~” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah I know. Too little too late. What happened to ya? You were...fine… before.” Ethan asked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Paul just shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Man, ya gotta tell me </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know what the fuck to do here.” Ethan said desperately. He tore his flannel shirt off from around his waist and shoved it into Paul’s hands. “At least...wipe off your face or somethin’. That blue shit can’t be good for ya...or me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man started mechanically swiping at his face with the shirt, quickly soaking it through with the blue gooey liquid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ gross…” Ethan murmured. Paul’s hands shook violently and he stared at Ethan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a soft voice that was even shakier than his hands, Paul said, “seven prophets for seven Eldritch Beings. ~</span>
  <em>
    <span>Bill said…~</span>
  </em>
  <span> Bill said…” he trailed off and stared at the now incredibly blue shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ethan froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bill?” He asked. “Bill Smith?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a very common name, but...Hatchetfield was a small town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Y-you know him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah! He’s Lex’s best friend’s dad. Alice’s! Lexi introduced me to her and him. Uh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span>...sorry. But yeah! He’s a great guy!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul nodded slowly. “Yeah…he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>~the best friend that I ever had~</span>
  </em>
  <span>...no. No he was. But he’s Infected…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh…” he hadn’t known. “I’m sorry, man. The uh...the good news is PEIP can cure him, though! Because of you. Wait...what do you mean ‘Bill said’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...I don’t know...it...didn’t make sense…” he scratched idly at his arm. “It...it wasn’t really h-him. Just a...a fragment? It was his voice, </span>
  <em>
    <span>~but the words aren’t yours-~</span>
  </em>
  <span> his. It wasn’t really him.” He said again, and winced. “Could...could you turn that off? Sorry. Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His phone was ringing. Again? ...still? Ethan hadn’t noticed it at all. He checked the caller ID and cursed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Dad…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>AHHHHHHHH. I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I couldn’t focus and couldn’t focus and couldn’t focus, and then all of a sudden I realized it had been a week, and then a week and a half and on and on, and I couldn’t get this chapter out.<br/>But here it is, like the chapter title, too little too late, and I am so incredibly sorry.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0064"><h2>64. Comfort</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma couldn’t sleep. She had started the day off as one person, and had ended it as another, and she couldn’t do anything about it. Firebringer...it wasn’t her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was Emma Perkins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>…only she wasn’t, was she?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had stolen a child’s identity, had paraded about in front of the girl’s sister and parents, and… and that was why Jane had been so distant the first year or so. Not because of any superficial reasons….but because she was </span>
  <em>
    <span>mourning</span>
  </em>
  <span> her dead little sister, and couldn’t tell anyone about it, because, to everyone else, Emma was still alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shivered slightly and curled herself deeper under the covers. John had escorted her back to her room after Xander had finally gotten through to Ethan. It was some sort of emergency, she should stay in her room, yadda yadda yadda. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t care. A small part of her had shrieked in outrage at being told to stay put, like a dog, but she’d barely registered it. It didn’t matter. John and Xander would handle it, Ethan would be fine, nothing fucking mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled onto her back and stared at the white ceiling. She wanted- </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be comforted. She wanted...wanted Paul. Paul, who she’d abandoned in her rage earlier and had completely forgotten about. Then again, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> just had her life turned completely on its head, but still. She’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma didn’t know how long she lay there, debating whether or not she should go see him. A part of her desperately needed comfort, but at the same time, she </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> he needed it, too. Maybe even more than she did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she got up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wrapping her blanket around herself, Emma shuffled down the hallway, which was brightly lit, despite the late hour. Her leg gave a sharp bark of pain and she cursed herself for running earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When she finally reached Paul’s room, she hesitated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Would he want to see her? What if he was asleep? She sighed and was about to turn away without knocking when the door opened. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Em?” He squinted at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Paul,” she said softly. And suddenly this was an absolutely horrible idea. She shouldn’t be there. “I...I feel like a fucking idiot now. Uh...sorry. I’ll go...let you get some sleep...sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned to go again, but Paul reached out and grabbed her hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His fingers were freezing. She shivered slightly and he recoiled instantly, ducking his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma looked at him then. His upper lip was stained slightly blue...as was his chin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul? What happened?” She asked hesitantly as she noticed the harsh smell of cleaning chemicals wafting out of his room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just shook his head and sang, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Emmaaaa, I’m sorry~</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry! So-sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He backed into his room a step, then another.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, you...you’re scaring me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She pushed past him into the room and gasped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The once pure white room had been spattered with blue. There was a large pale blue splotch on the ground, and a few streaks nearby and on the walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that…? Paul, please!” It was her turn to grab his hands. Ignoring the cold, she held them tight enough that it would take considerable effort on his part to pull away. “What happened here? Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His too bright eyes filled with blue tinted tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She pulled him into a hug. “You don’t have to talk. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>are gonna be okay. Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe giving comfort, Emma thought, can be almost as good as getting it yourself, as she pulled him over to the bed so he could properly lean on her.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I figured it was time for Paul to finally get a hug. ALSO. I’ve been debating recording these chapters and posting them either on YouTube or here as a podfic. Would anyone be interested if I did that???</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0065"><h2>65. Comfort 2.0</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m a sucker for paulkins so you get the last chapter from Paul’s perspective. Sorry not sorry</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul was still shaking softly as he lay in bed. What Bill had said...it was insanity. Absolute insanity. A war? A cosmic war between Webby and...someone else? And...and the Catalyst… the Catalyst seemed to be at the center of it all. Hannah had seemingly gone into shock over the fact that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> the one she thought it was. And Webby….the Mistress…. the Hive had been screeching, panicked about her, right after Hannah had claimed that the Spider had been too loud. It had to be connected…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had to be…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Xander had arrived minutes after Ethan had answered the phone, with half a dozen soldiers. Two of them had secured Paul and made sure that he wasn’t in any immediate danger of either dying or reverting- Paul hadn’t been able to tell. The others had taken samples of the blood on the floor before cleaning it all away. Well. All except for pale blue splotches wherever the blood had been, maring the pristine white room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xander had taken Ethan aside, presumably to get the story from him, as Paul had found he couldn’t manage to speak without an absolute feeling of dread washing over him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then he’d been alone…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whirlwind of activity and panic and chaos and then...nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He could still feel himself being watched, but whether the eyes on him were PEIP’s or the Hive’s, Paul didn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d been laying on top of his covers in the dark for who knows how long, when the strip of light under the door to the hallway flickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow stood on the other side of his door for long enough that Paul decided to see who it was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Opening the door, he found Emma, wrapped in a blanket, looking highly embarrassed. Something in his heart eased at the sight of her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Em?” He squinted at her. Why was she there? It had to be almost two in the morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Paul,” she whispered, and ducked her head slightly.“I...I feel like a fucking idiot now. Uh...sorry. I’ll go...let you get some sleep...sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She started to leave. No! No she couldn’t go. She had only just gotten there, and </span>
</p><p>
  <span>he needed her to stay, if only for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without thinking, he reached for her exposed hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Immediately she shivered and grimaced slightly, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Fuck. She’d been so upset earlier, maybe she still was. He wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t want to be touched. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He let go of her and took a step back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry! Sorry sorry sorry!” He said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” She asked, peering up at him. “What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes lingered on his chin, which, despite his best efforts, had been stained blue, even after he’d scrubbed off the blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He’d forgotten about that. She shouldn’t have to see that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>~Emmaaaa, I’m sorry~</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry! So-sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He retreated further into the darkness of his room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, you...you’re scaring me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Happened</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” She asked, and brushed past </span>
</p><p>
  <span>him and turned on the light. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He froze when she let out a gasp. He knew what she was seeing. The blue smeared on the walls, staining the floor… he had to get her out, out, out!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that…? Paul, please!” She whirled around, dropping the blanket, and grasped his hands, holding them tightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened here? Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Emma, who had been there when he couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. Emma, who-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tugged him forward and wrapped her arms around him. “You don’t have to talk. I’ve got you. It’s okay. You’re gonna be okay. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We </span>
  </em>
  <span>are gonna be okay. Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears ran down his cheeks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....okay.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0066"><h2>66. Late Night Conversations</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Paul blinked at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you’re like Ethan? As in, you’re from </span>
  <em>
    <span>~an alternate realityyy~</span>
  </em>
  <span> sorry! Sorry! A-another dimension?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded and picked at her nails. “Yep. According to Xander, Johnny, and Fran, and honestly?” She looked back up at him, “I’m gonna take their word on that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once Paul had calmed down, he’d asked Emma why she’d come to his room in the middle of the night. She’d tried for nonchalance, and had failed miserably. Everything had come tumbling out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d told him about the night on the boat, about her cousin Linda, about falling off and hitting her head. She’d told him how that had happened to another person, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>child</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and how she had appeared at the same time. Emma told him about her ‘recovery’, about learning to speak English, and how hard it was, not knowing anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had listened silently the entire time, nodding at parts, and looking confused at others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...my fam- the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hive</span>
  </em>
  <span> said you were...wrong… and...and that Ethan was...different. I think...I think they </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> about you. Something about your knowledge being...off? Lazy?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. They aren't’...they’re not very...easy to understand.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma chewed on her cheek. “I dunno. Xander said something about Chorn blessing us with knowledge? But...I’m not sure. It certainly hasn’t made an appearance any time since then...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She trailed off and looked up at him. “What happened earlier? You’re stained blue, and...and you seem upset.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, and the room darkened until he reopened them. “I...Bill spoke- no….sang? He-he communicated with me. It wasn’t him, though. Just...just his voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma grabbed his hand. Bill had been Paul’s best friend… “I am so sorry, Paul. Why won’t the Hive leave you the fuck alone?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t answer for a long moment, staring at a spot behind her shoulder for long enough that she turned, half expecting to see Xander or someone standing there. But there was nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I’m their Prophet, Em… do you remember what Xander said last night? When he was talking about the importance of sevens?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back to him and made a face. “Please,” she said, “I can barely remember what I ate for dinner, let alone his lists.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t mention that she hadn’t eaten dinner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul ran his thumb gently back and forth across her hand, then stopped abruptly, giving it a quick squeeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“For what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-nothing...uh...Xander. He said there were seven prophets for seven Eldritch Beings. And-and then earlier, Bill said-sang-said the same thing. I think- well- he kept calling me prophet, so I think it’s logical to assume I’m one of them. And-and-and he sa-said something about a-a </span>
  <em>
    <span>war</span>
  </em>
  <span> with the Seven? And the Catalyst? But I think...if you got your knowledge from Ch-Chorn? Was it? And Xander described them as a...a Being? Then they must be one of the Seven, and you could be the Prophet? I don’t know...But Hannah is definitely one. She…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hesitated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She what?” Emma prodded, tucking away the information about the prophets to examine later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She...started screaming. And said that her Spider,” he shivered, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Webby</span>
  </em>
  <span>, was upset and too loud. And then right after, the Hive st-started freaking the fuck out, saying that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mistress</span>
  </em>
  <span>? would kill us-</span>
  <em>
    <span>them</span>
  </em>
  <span> all. So, she’s got to be connected somehow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma nodded. “I think she has to be...she’s an odd one though, isn’t she?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul flinched as though her words had been aimed at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Em</span>
  <em>
    <span>~maaa!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? It’s true!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He narrowed his eyes at her. “I’ve been called an ‘odd one’ my entire life, Em. Do you know how shitty that feels? </span>
  <em>
    <span>~to be beaten and betrayed~</span>
  </em>
  <span> by the people you thought you knew, thought you could </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Blue began to slip from his nose, but he didn’t seem to notice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span> so much. I thought you...thought that you’d...</span>
  <em>
    <span>why would you say that</span>
  </em>
  <span>?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The line of slightly glowing blue shit reached his mouth and he froze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hold on a sec,” Emma said, and got up. His words felt like a punch to her gut. She hadn’t meant to be hurtful, just… Hannah </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> odd. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom and wet a corner.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t mean to be offensive,” she offered. “It’s just that… she </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> different. And I dunno if it’s because she’s a prophet or what, but she’s kinda odd. And you’re odd, too!” He flinched again, and she plopped back down next to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But ‘odd’ doesn’t have to mean bad. They aren’t necessarily synonymous.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She started wiping at the blue on his face. “And sure, I’m not her biggest fan, but Hannah’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I’m not gonna be mean to her. I’m sure I was...well. Aren’t all kids weird as shit? I mean, I don’t have much experience with ‘em, but...the ones I have...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stopped her ramble.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, Paul. I really didn’t mean to be rude.” She said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He caught her wrist and gently lowered it away from his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. “I know you didn’t. I...I overreacted-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No you didn’t!” Emma said firmly. “You didn’t overreact at all. If someone said that to you in a hurtful way, then you have every right to be upset. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stared at her. She withdrew her wrist from his hand and dabbed a little at the blue shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you...leaking?” She asked, changing the subject. “Do you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“N-no,” he said, “I’m not...not infectious anymore, though...at least I shouldn’t be. Em, you should stop-“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” She cocked her head up at him. “You just said you aren’t infe...unless you…don’t want- oh god, shit, I’m sorry!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached for her hands again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No! No, that-that’s not it at-at all! I just...I…lost it. Twice today. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>saw somewhere else</span>
  </em>
  <span> earlier. I think it was the Hive’s original home. And-and then again, later. I blacked out, and when I woke up, I-I-I hit Ethan. I didn’t know who o-or </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span> I was, and I hurt him. I don’t want to hurt you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma scoffed. “Paul. You couldn’t hurt me. You’re as violent as a fucking teddy bear.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opened his mouth, but she shushed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, listen to me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You will not hurt me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then she did what was likely one of the stupidest things she had ever done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She leaned forward, and kissed Paul Matthews square on his blue-tinged lips.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Y’all. I have been waiting for this chapter for so fucking long. I love Paulkins so much and i finally felt they needed to fucking kiss.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0067"><h2>67. The Second</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan couldn’t sleep. His leg kept bouncing over the side of the couch, and he felt completely wired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah had fallen asleep at Amanda’s house, and the colonel had offered to let her stay the whole night, which his dads had accepted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had gone to bed a few hours ago, after scolding him about not answering his phone. To which he responded that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Xander</span>
  </em>
  <span> hadn’t answered his own in the first place, which only made the whole situation worse. It hadn’t been his fucking fault. Except…he hadn’t been himse- No. No. It had not been his fault. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan jammed his palms into his eyes. Fucking hell. Fucking Scorpion bastard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made sense. He should have put it together sooner. Ethan’d had all the fucking puzzle pieces for years now, and he’d never put the whole picture together. Hannah had </span>
  <em>
    <span>told</span>
  </em>
  <span> him to be wary of scorpions, years ago, and he hadn’t listened. Hadn’t paid any attention as his dreams were slowly taken over by the crawling...</span>
  <em>
    <span>bugs</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>John’s theory was sound. There were Seven Eldritch Beings and Seven Deadly Sins. He’d told his dads what Hannah had said about the Scorpion being ‘Proud’, and John had grimaced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seven is a powerful number, son. It is as precious a thread as time. You’ve heard of the Seven Deadly Sins, correct?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan had just nodded. His jaw was in serious pain that only got worse when he spoke, and he was shocked Paul hadn't broken it with the amount of force Ethan had been thrown across the room with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrath, Lust, Envy, Gluttony, Sloth, Greed, and Pride. It is PEIP’s belief that these </span>
  <em>
    <span>sins</span>
  </em>
  <span> each correlate to a Being. Webby being Gluttony, The Hive being Greed, Chorn being Sloth. Do you copy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan had just nodded mutely, slowly figuring it out for himself, just as his dad spelled it out for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are one of the Prophets, Ethan. Xander and I, we’ve known for a while now, although we did not know to whom until you told us about the Scorpion. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Pincer</span>
  </em>
  <span> is his name. And he is a Proud Being. He cares not for any but himself and his glory. From what I could gather, Pincer is the Hand to another Being. Why he is the second in command, I cannot fathom. He is powerful, Ethan. He will continue to try to influence you, especially now, as the board has been set, and the game begun…”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Sorry this is late! It’s been a very strange week, and I’m working on a few other projects that should be coming out soon. <br/>Speaking of projects! i have posted Chapter 1 of this story on YouTube if any one is interested. My Channel name is Slyther Lynn.     (I’m so creative i know)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0068"><h2>68. The Kiss</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Emma Perkins was kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Emma Perkins</span>
  </em>
  <span> was kissing him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Holy shit. He gasped softly and then leaned in deeper, holding her closer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d never been kissed before, and it had never particularly bothered him, despite Ted’s persistent ribbing, until Emma. He’d never cared either way until he’d seen her at Beanies and had known he needed to know her, to know who she was, to be friends with her. And then...somewhere along the line that had changed. He wasn’t sure exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>when</span>
  </em>
  <span> it had shifted, but it had and now, here he was, kissing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Emma Perkins</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the Latte Hotte herself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was nice. Very nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her mouth parted gently and suddenly it wasn’t nice. Paul’s jaw started to tingle, and his stomach lurched. He could feel his mouth start to fill with saliva-no…...no not saliva, blue shit. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Blue shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed her off of him and flew to the bathroom sink before vomiting heavily into it. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get air. The viscous blue substance poured from his nose and mouth in a constant stream and he couldn’t stop it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the fuck, Paul?” Emma asked from the bathroom door. “...was kissing me that bad?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tears pricked his eyes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>tried</span>
  </em>
  <span> to tell her no, that kissing her was the best thing he’d ever done, that he had never felt so happy or alive, but all that came out was more blue shit and a garbled </span>
  <em>
    <span>~” Emmaaaaaaaa!”~</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He clenched his fists on the counter </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~Save her! Save her from the slothful one! Make her ussssssss! Just puke in her mouth, she opened it willingly, she </span>
  </em>
  <span>wants</span>
  <em>
    <span> her apotheosis , Prophet!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>No! No, no she didn’t! </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~”NO!”~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul?” Emma turned on the lights and walked closer to him. “Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Paul.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He quickly turned his head away. He hadn’t meant to sing. Hadn’t meant to scare her or-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, look at me,” Emma said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned his head almost automatically towards her, but when he felt the cool air hit his wet, blue stained face, he immediately hid it again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She touched his arm, and he winced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry!” She let go, but stayed next to him. “What….what happened? What caused all…” she gestured to the blue shit slowly filling the sink, “of this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head. He didn’t know if he could speak without singing again. A tear slipped down his cheek and his hands shook.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma left the room and brought back the towel she’d used to wipe his face earlier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mere. You can’t last five minutes without making either a scene or a mess, can you?” She laughed, albeit somewhat forcefully.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“~N~</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he felt the song bubble up his throat and wrestled to keep it down. “N-no, Em. </span>
  <em>
    <span>~let me puke in your mouth, Em! Just open your food bin, girl- No!~</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand rested on his back, and he shuddered. He was going to hurt her. He was going to infect her, and he didn’t deserve her kindness or affection or-or-or her </span>
  <em>
    <span>kiss</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, please, you’re scaring me. That-” A sob escaped him. He couldn’t keep hurting her like this. Paul would never be able to forgive himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“E-em, I’m s-so s-s- so sorry! I- it- I was going to-to-to </span>
  <em>
    <span>infect</span>
  </em>
  <span> you! I c-can’t-“ </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She carefully turned his face to meet hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Paul, it wasn’t you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was!” He nearly wailed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It. Was. Not. Listen to me. What you just sang, that…It sang that to me at the hospital. Before you woke up. That wasn’t you. I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> you won’t hurt me. I trust you completely.” She said firmly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul opened his mouth, but then suddenly he couldn’t control it. He couldn’t move it, couldn’t say anything. It just hung open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“.....Paul?” He widened his eyes and tried to tell her, tried to get her to go, to leave, but then he answered her. Only it wasn’t him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...and it wasn’t the Hive. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Mwahahahahaha i feel evil.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0069"><h2>69. The End is Nigh...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong. Paul’s eyes were wide with fear, and his mouth gaped open horrifically. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“....Paul?” His eyes widened further, everything in him seemed to scream “</span>
  <em>
    <span>run</span>
  </em>
  <span>”, but then he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“emMA. SaluTations! my mastEr Really WIshed to Give you tidinGs so gLad, he saYs: hewWo agaIN! he’S vEry, Very excited! hE’s soRY for cheating at the GAME, sInce iT ruInS the lIveliness of it. NEVertheless</span>
  <em>
    <span>, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thIs message is To be a wArning to the Being caLlEd CHORN. do not JOin the spIder iN oUr war. She wOn’t pRevail, and you will all DIE.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Emma blinked. “What the fuck? What are you?” It twisted Paul’s voice, making it higher, and it’s tone was…..enraptured.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was a sacrifice! To further my master’s goal! Our victory is secure! Now you know what is at stake, and what will happen should that </span>
  <em>
    <span>Neanderthal</span>
  </em>
  <span> side against us. I was a sacrifice, a worm, a little drop in the bucket! Implanted I was! Millennia ago, waiting, watching, for this moment! When the board was set, and the game begun!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paul clapped a hand over his mouth, smearing blue shit onto it. He bit down hard onto his fingers and yanked his hand away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The end is nigh…”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>There is a hidden message in this chapter! I mean...it’s not hidden very well, but it’s there lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0070"><h2>70. A Fwendy-Wend Comes to Play...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ethan woke to the sound of screaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Horrible, blood chilling screaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d been able to fall asleep sometime after four thirty, but now sunlight was streaming across the living room. And there was Hannah, screaming at something on the TV.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~He’s a Wiggly Snig, and a Sniggly wig Yeah!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A fwendy-wend that makes you giggly</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He’s an underwater creature from outta this world...~</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hannah!” He lept up and sat down on the floor next to her, “hey hey hey hey hey, what’s goin’ on Banana?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She crawled into his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Webby. Bad doll. Very very bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slowly ran a hand down the back of her head and neck, like he used to do with Henry. Slowly she started to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Hannah. Webby goes ape at everythin’. I’m sure the doll is nothin’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had been a long few days, fuck, a long month, and it had to be taking it’s toll on her. She’d fallen asleep at Amanda’s-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Banana?” He asked, “when didja come back to the house? I thought ya spent the night with Amanda.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nodded. “I did. But Xander got me earlier. Said something happened and he needed her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Earlier? What time is it?” Ethan glanced at the largest clock, the one mounted on the wall, and the only one that worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How the fuck is it eleven?” He swore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah looked at him sagely. “Time is a precious thread in the fabric of the universe. It usually passes linearly. At least it does here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t have time for riddles today. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>~His name is Wiggly, and he’s here to stay</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His belly’s squishy, puts a smile on your face</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just tickle his belly-well and he will say-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I WUV YOU!!!~</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>What the fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> that thing. It was horrifying. No kid would want that piece of shit. Green and tentacled, but with tufts of fur? Fuck no. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...I can see why Webby hates that fucker. He’s real fuckin’ ugly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah nodded. “Fuckin’ ugly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ethan affected a gasp and slapped a hand across his mouth. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hannah</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Language! Young lady!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah giggled so hard that she could barely gasp out, “Eth! </span>
  <em>
    <span>You- you</span>
  </em>
  <span> say it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cocked his head, “You’re right. I do. But </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> an adult.” He stuck his tongue out, and she responded in kind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hannah was a good kid. A good kid who needed her sister back. And with any luck, she’d -</span>
  <em>
    <span>they’d</span>
  </em>
  <span>- have Lexi back by the end of the day.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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